#and when she is awake . . she isn't making any sense. she keeps asking where people are.

[roseguided]

i might not be around much today, ooc wise. my grandma took a little bit of a turn last night for the worse while in the hospital. so, being faced with the idea she could pass away has me down some. she could recover, but she is 91 and its harder the older you get to recover. all we can do is hope and see what happens.

[glitterguts13]

Do you have any favourite of hcs (any kind) of aventurine?

Oh, I have so much to say about Aventurine it's not even funny, so here comes a jumbled mix of thoughts.

TW: topics of slavery, self-harm, sexual abuse, and suicidal ideation. Please read with caution!

Aventurine struggles with genuine physical and emotional intimacy. Having been used, abused, and tortured all this life, mentally, sexually, and physically, he's grown to learn that people are to be kept at arm's length the whole time.

Because of this, Aventurine became very hyper-sexual to deal with the trauma. To him, if he starts it and stays in control, he can't be hurt. This isn't true at all, but it's the only way he knows how to handle people who start getting touchy with him because saying 'no' never worked in the past.

If someone does manage to break down his walls and form a genuine emotional bond with him...he really doesn't know what to do. He showers his partners with gifts and money, is extremely sex driven, and doesn't have any consideration for his own well-being. He's so worried about losing them, that he gives too much.

Aventurine doesn't know how to ask for things he wants. In the sense, he doesn't know how to say "Please, just hold my hand." or "Will you brush my hair?" These simple little acts of love that he desperately craves, but can't ask for because he's worried he's being needy.

For fucks sake just hold this man and remind him that his worth isn't tied to his wealth or his body.

The hand that trembles, hold it tightly and press it to your lips. He'll fall to pieces.

Aventurine is torn between desperately wanting a family and being terrified of having one. He wants a partner, children, and a home to come back to that's filled with love, warmth, and laughter...but he knows how quickly he could lose it, and just how big a target is painted on his back. It keeps him up at night, debating back and forth on if he should pursue his desire or leave it to rot like the rest of his dreams.

Topaz is the closest thing to a 'friend' he has inside of the IPC. While they're hardly besties, she's at least someone he can relax around and share a few drinks with. She's not given him any reason to distrust her, but I don't think he would ever fully rely on her either.

Has played his fair share of Russian Roulette, and leaves disappointed each time he wins.

Also, are we all just going to ignore that little tidbit where they mention he was strapped to an electric chair?? I can't even begin to imagine how that fucked him up both mentally and physically.

That being said, Aventurine has a lot of self-harm and pain-seeking tendencies. I won't go into details, but when he gets low, his mind begins to spiral and he has to find something to snap him out of it or else it just gets worse and worse until he's ready to make sure that gun is fully loaded.

He's grown better about it over the years, but he will never fully be able to heal and recover. Especially not as long as he's in the hands of the IPC. Ratio is the only one who catches wind of Aventurine's self-harming tendencies, but he doesn't have a clue on how to help him, so he keeps quiet.

The brand on his neck is a source of contention. He has the money to have it removed and covered up. He hates to see it, but in the same breath, he's almost afraid to lose it. If he does, will he lose sight of his past? Where he came from? He isn't ashamed of his past, but he also doesn't like the very clear reminder of it either. Jade makes passion comments on it often, and it makes his stomach twist everytime.

Donates obscene amounts of money to children in need. He will never let a child suffer, and while he clearly can't dismantle the entire fucked up system set in place, he's bought the contracts of many child slaves and freed them anonymously. He wants to save them all, but it just isn't possible, and it's one more thing that keeps him awake at night.

[smokescreenstuff]

So idk if you take ask or not but I really do enjoy Smokescreen being a predacons,

But I feel like since he's mutated he would be a smaller predacons than the others we seen throughout the show and movie.I feel like it would make sense that since Smokescreen is a small predacon he can't exactly fully transform so his old doorwings would be wings that he can still use despite not being in his dragon form.I hope that made sense because he would be very scrawny in the other predacons eyes and I still wonder how the other bots would react to Smokescreen being a predacon and later on in the show and how Predaking would see Smokescreen.Not only that would be still be with the cons/shockwave when the experiment was successful or would he go back to the autobots?Sorry if this was long but you should definitely continue it I would like to see how this goes since there isn't a lot of things with this type of topic nor a lot of people that like Smokescreen.😊

Yes, I take asks. I'm fine with any ask and will try my best to awnser them all.

I very much enjoy the idea of Smokescreen being small due to being "created" differently, as well as keeping his blue bio-lights instead of them becoming the Predacon yellow. The idea of Smokescreen losing the ability to transform actually seems like a good idea. Very much like how sparklings (baby transformers) are unable to transform until they are older.

Shockwave and most likely Megatron, Knockout, Starscream, and a few Vehicons are the first to see him. Most ignore him but some of the Vehicons and especially Starscream would taunt and make fun of him. Predaking meets Smokescreen in the same episode where he reveals his ability to transform.

While looking at the other Predacons he'll notice Smokescreen, being he looks different from the others. The transformation has already taken full hold, he looks much more like a Predacon, but Predaking still spots him from the others. Due to Smokescreen's brighter color scheme, blue bio-lights, and smaller size. Shockwave explains it as "trying a different way to create a Predacon." Which isn't a lie. Due to Smokescreen's smaller size Predaking sees Smokescreen more like a son then a brother, thinking Smokescreen is younger then he really is.

...

Smokescreen is released in what I'm pretty sure is the same episode. When Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack find the Predacon still in their tubes. Due to their almost instant encounter with Shockwave it takes them a moment to find him. During the fighting when Shockwave starts draining the pods is when Wheeljack finds Smokescreen banging against the glass. He doesn't recognize Smokescreen, but seeing as that Predacon out of all of them is so different, he's inclined to help him.

After breaking the glass and removing the cables Wheeljack sets the grenade. Smokescreen runs close behind quickly realized he can no longer transform. They make it out of the blast only to encounter Predaking, who thinks Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack both destroyed his brothers and were trying to kidnap his "son." The fight goes on with Smokescreen stay out of it, he's just not really in the right state to fight right now.

Optimus comes to save the Autobots, throwing Smokescreen over his back as they escape. Smokescreen passes out while on Optimus' back. Ratchet had already scanned Smokescreen by the time he awakes, no injuries, just exhausted.

...

Wheeljack: No idea who Smokescreen is, but due to Bulkhead's reaction he feels a bit bad for the kid.

Bulkhead: Immediately hugs Smokescreen before realizing he isn't awake yet. Gently puts him down and looks a bit worried about his current appearance.

Arcee: Stays back to give Smokescreen space. No matter how much she denies it, she's worried about him.

Bumblebee: Sits down next to Smokescreen in an attempt to give him comfort. Sad beeps TM.

Ratchet: Tries to focus on the medical stuff, after confirming Smokescreen isn't injured he immediately goes to working on Ultra Magnus.

Optimus: Looks stoic and all that, but if he ever sees Shockwave... He's dead on sight.

Ultra Magnus: Recognizes Smokescreen from his Elite Guard training. Too busy thinking about his hand to worry about Smokescreen... But he still might join Optimus on Shockwave's murder.

Miko: Doesn't get that it was probably not the best experience for Smokescreen, thinks he looks rad.

Jack: A bit confused, mostly worried.

Raf: Understands the most about Cybertronian biology thanks to Ratchet. Understands that even if Smokescreen has no injuries, he's probably in a lot of pain and stress.

June: Worried about Smokescreen's health.

Fowler: Too busy to care... much... Hates the 'cons more then he thought was possible now.

Smokescreen: 😰

[cookierunauprompts]

I'm thinking the layout of the toy box consists of 2 level maps. Bare with me, this will be long.

1st one is the main landscape of the realm. Nice and vibrant. Very colorful, but I think the main dominant color would be yellow since... Butter. Big contrast to the dolls who've gone hyperactive and are trying to kill Gingerbrave and Co. Rosemary, thankfully, shows up on time to lead them to safety, possibly a village. The dolls within the place are either dormant, passive, or docile, keeping themselves safe. We learn from Rosemary that ever since Golden Butter Cookie had fallen into an everlasting slumber, leaving them with no other purpose or task, caused a divide amongst her doll servants. So much so that the hyper focused ones even began attacking the others who didn't join them. When Gingerbrave asks if there's an exit to the toybox realm but they say that it's been shut for years, and that only Golden Butter Cookie could open it. This is what motivates the gang to go wake her up. Rosemary goes along with them to make sure they don't die. Being one of GBC's first creations, they know the realm like the back of their hand, and knows where she is. The final boss battle is probably with another doll that had been working hard to fend off people from the dollhouse not because they were protecting GBC, but because everything inside the dollhouse has gown downhill.

2nd layer is the dollhouse where Golden Butter Cookie is kept in. It looks like a normal dollhouse at first, but the further you go, the much darker.. The messier... The creepier it gets. The dolls inside, though still hyper focused on protecting Golden Butter Cookie are damaged, bent, or distorted. There's this one doll, no, a mannequin doll that looks just like a cookie constantly ambushes the group, trying to prevent them from going further. The further they go... The more the group wonders why GBC is stuck in a deep slumber, and finally, Rosemary finally explains who GBC really is, who she was before she hid away from everyone in the toy box realm, and her relations with the Beast Cookies. I'm assuming this is the part where they tell Rosemary about what really happened to Shadow Milk Cookie, and the current situation that is happening beyond the toybox realm. Realizing the urgency, they become more motivated to keep pushing forward and wake up GBC.

The moment they get there... It's a small room, with a faint light that shines through the windows. Amongst pillows, flowers, and plants, is a glass coffin, in which Golden Butter Cookie is asleep. Giving off the motivation sucking aura that is keeping the group away. However, Rosemary manages to muster up enough strength to open the glass coffin to wake her up.

They wait for a moment... It all seems hopeless... But the room goes dark, and Golden Butter Cookie awakens.

As she eyes Gingerbrave and Co. She's... Disappointed... Sad. What was she expecting for? But she sensed it... She sensed HIS soul jam. So why isn't HE here? Cowardice had led to Shame... Her shame had drove her to her eternal slumber that let her escape from her thoughts... Now they were rushing back.. She was wide awake... And she's finally snapped.

Thus, the final boss battle in the toybox realm begins, as Golden Butter Cookie commands the dolls to fight for their puppet master. Their creator. Replicating any spell or attack of their respective cookies while GBC unleashes her own spells.

Anon how the FUCK do you understand my own oc better than I do/VERYPOS

But, anyways, I don't believe that Goldie would order the puppets/dolls/pookies(plushie cookies) to fight for her. The very minute she sees Pure Vanilla she's assuming the worst and thinking that he killed Shadow Milk for his Soul Jam.

The first thing she does after she sees it is to call out Rosemary for not coming to the realization she did before rosemary could explain. She tells Rosemary to go and Rosemary cannot help but follow orders. Goldie then summons a spear and immediately rushes to attack Pure Vanilla, who quickly puts up a shield.

The fight with Golden Butter Cookie would be brutal. There's a constant de-buff affecting your team thanks to her aura of burnout, and if you have any ancients then Golden Butter Cookie will focus on attacking them.

Luckily, due to her own burnout, her hp drains over the course of the battle. As to symbolize her slowly succumbing to her emotions. After the battle is when Gingerbrave and Co actually get to explain the situation proper. And after hearing their explanation... " ... I... I see... So he's alive... and free..."

She's... depressed? Why wouldn't she be? If he had really gotten sealed, and was just now free, then why didn't he come see her? Did he... forget her? ... It was a terrible thought, one she didn't like thinking about. Soon, however, she agrees to join the Gingergang to help out with the situation.

She wondered what it was like, briefly, if she hadn't been a coward back then. Maybe if she did more to help, maybe if she fought back against the beasts when they arose, maybe none of this would have happened... but-

But what? does it really matter? It'd be better to not linger in the past too much after all.

With that, she fixes the Toy-Box, repaired the hyperfocused and dorment to their former states and creating one last thing, a crown. She gifts the Crown to Rosemary, telling her to lead the citizens of the Toy-Box in her stead this time instead of just abandoning them. Rosemary agrees, not because it's her new purpose, but because she genuinely wants to help the other residents of the Toy-Box towards a better future.

And after that, she leaves the Toy-Box with Gingerbrave and co.

It, also turns out that Rosemary lied to them. They could have just gone back the way they came, there's no way to lock the Toy-Box from the Inside after all. Rosemary really wanted to help Goldie though, and if it took lying to a few cookies? Well, that's certainly something she's willing to do.

...

But what's Golden Butter Cookie going to do after seeing Shadow Milk again? Well... Let's just say that she can be very scary when she wants to be, especially after going through the equivalent of being left on read for thousands of years.

[homunculus-argument]

I sometimes have "floater characters/concepts" - ideas that wouldn't be heavy enough to carry a whole story on their own, but which also aren't compatible with any other stories I have around at the time. One of them, currently, would require a setting that is the completely normal present-day Finland, to which I don't really have any story I could attach it to.

This guy is a completely white, natively finnish dude who was born and raised muslim. He's not hardcore religious, but he is observant, doing his prayers every day and knows where the local mosque is in every town he has lived in.

The story is that back in the 90s, his dad was doing a shit ton of drugs, and in one instance went into psychosis and heard the voice of God, commanding him to stop playing these stupid games, get clean, go back to the woman he got pregnant, marry her and provide for his family. Having grown up in a very christian environment, he had no doubt that this was indeed the Abrahamic God, but for reasons that may only make sense to himself, he also came to the conclusion that Islam is the one true religion.

And now his son is muslim, being the middle child out of five (having two older half-siblings with different fathers, and two younger ones), and while he has some doubts on whether God actually spoke to his father or whether it was his subconscious voice that manifested from sleep deprivation caused by being awake for a week and a half doing the worst speed found in Europe, he is certain that without God in his father's life, his own life could currently be much worse.

His father is still a bit odd, but a loving and dedicated man, who is only gently concerned by the two of his children who aren't religious at all. He considers whatever inconveniences he encounters in life to be a test from God, and his duty to not be embittered by them. In his younger years he had to do a lot of unlearning to shake off whatever casual racism he picked up from being born and raised in rural central Finland in the 70s and 80s, and that lesson was sent to him by God as well.

His mother never thought about religion much before, and isn't particularly religious now, but she has five healthy children, a peaceful home, and a sober man who considers it a duty to keep it that way, and she isn't concerned with questioning that. Philosophically, she is a stoic, and complaining about things as petty as not cooking pork dishes when she's otherwise content and happy with her life wouldn't even cross her mind.

In the end this guy doesn't really think about religion all that much, either, though it finds it absurd and annoying when people ask him why he won't just convert to christianity when ultimately all that concerns him is that God is real. He sees no point in going out of his way to try and learn a completely new religion that is intimately unfamiliar to him, when the largest way that that the way his religion inconveniences him is occasionally telling people he doesn't drink for religious purposes, and then feeling the need to explain that he's muslim, not Laestadian.

[green-fifteen]

Day 2: unauthorized surveillance in the boys room

Prompt: Eavesdrop Fandom: X-Files (TV) Pairing: Scully & Mulder / Gen Summary: In a world where Scully and Mulder meet as Dana and Fox, two teenagers take on a high-stakes case. (I wrote a high school AU for some reason.) Word count: 2,889 read on AO3 instead

for @fluffyfebruary

Fox opens his locker and dumps his books inside. They land noisily in an uncomfortable-looking pile. He can hear the locker to his right opening as he shuffles through the mess of papers on his shelf. Where is his damn essay?

The girl next to him tucks a few strands of orange hair behind her ear and adjusts something neatly within her own locker, then closes and locks it. There's a tall boy standing at her side who looks like he was sculpted by the head coach to fill out a football jersey. Fox looks away from them when he bends his head to kiss her.

"Come to practice?" he hears.

"I can't today. There's a lab after school."

"Danaaaaa," he whines. Fox wrinkles his nose and his search starts to feels a little more desperate. He hates it when he has to listen to this guy. If he could just find that stupid essay! He knows it's here somewhere. He wrote it a whole week in advance, then put it in his locker for safe keeping until it was due. Which it is. Right now.

"Maybe you could come over for dinner tonight, when you're finished. Mom keeps asking me to invite you, even though I told her I have. Like seven times. She wants to meet you."

"I'll try. I'll be real tired after practice, though. How about I call you when I get home and let you know then?"

"Okay. I think my dad is making pasta, so there'll be plenty if you decide to come. I hope you do."

They're quiet after that while they lean in to kiss each other again, this time longer and more noisy. Fox scrambles through his mess one last time and finally spots what he's looking for. He nearly crows in triumph, but a glance at his watch shows him he doesn't have time to celebrate. He has to be on the other side of the building in one minute. He slams his locker shut and dashes down the hall, away from Dana and away from her lying boyfriend.

For Fox, school is (mostly) easy and very boring. As his report cards show, he doesn't have any trouble performing above the standard, academically (if you ignore his D+ in German). His extracurriculars are impressive, too; he's a cross country runner, and a whiz on the debate team.

The people at his school are also very boring. And, in a sense, they're also easy. There are lots of 'in-groups' that he's noticed: mean and pretty people, technology obsessives, artistic flunkies, just to name a few. Despite not caring about any of the things that bind these groups together, he's managed to become friendly with almost all of them. It's all surface level for him, though. It isn't that he doesn't care about people, or that he doesn't want to have real friends. It's just that everyone he goes to school with is too easy to read.

Take Dana's boyfriend as an example. He doesn't want to meet Dana's parents, likely because he doesn't take their relationship seriously. Despite this, he feeds her fake and obvious excuses to string her along, pretending he's as serious as she is. Once, Fox heard him say he "needs to clean the oven," after Dana invited him to her sister's birthday party.

And, unfortunately, Fox is never taken in by the little lies people tell to make and keep relationships. He hopes it will be easier when he's older, but at 17, he sometimes feels like he's the only genuine person he knows.

After he turns in his essay and manages to stay awake through the rest of class, he strides back to his locker. Dana is already there, bending to arrange her textbooks into some kind of order. When he opens his locker, she straightens and turns to face him.

"Hey, Fox," she says, voice friendly. It isn't hard to hear the nervous tension underneath it.

"Hi, Dana," he replies. He's pulling his folders from his backpack, tugging them out three or four at a time.

There's a moment of silence where he knows she's chewing on her lip. "You heard what Paul said today, right?"

Fox snorts and looks at her. Her face is a little pink and her eyes keep darting to him and away again. She holds her mouth in a straight line. He can't help but feel sorry for her.

"Yeah, I heard him."

"Do you think…" the words catch in her mouth, but she soldiers on. "He's not coming over for dinner, is he?"

He tries on a gentle smile, then says, as kindly as he can, "I don't think so."

She straightens her back and turns to lean on the front of her locker. Her entire posture signals determination to him all of a sudden, and he gets an uneasy feeling.

"Okay," she says. "I want proof."

"Proof?"

"Yes. No offense, but I'm not sure if I can totally trust your perspective on the situation. I don't know you that well." She shakes her head and the white light in the hallway glints gold off her glasses. "I want to break up with him. I think I need to. But I want to be sure."

He nods, slowly. "And you are going to do this… how, exactly?"

She faces him fully, arms crossed and gaze direct. "I need your help."

Fox feels his eyes go wide.

He's only spoken to Dana Scully twice since the beginning of the school year. The first time it happened, he'd been rushing to cross country and he was already late. He'd closed his locker and immediately lunged into her. Their books and homework pages had flown across the hallway and they'd worked together to sort everything. He didn't have much time for pleasantries, but when she'd said "I'm Dana," he'd said, "Fox," and "Nice to meet you," before sprinting away.

The second time was only five or six days before now. She'd been humming to herself, rummaging around in a bag of cosmetics. He'd been leaning against the locker on the other side of his, fiddling with an origami crane. He couldn't get the neck to fold correctly. Boyfriend Paul had come up and startled both of them, his huge hand slapping on metal.

"You look like a fish when you make that face," he'd said. "Like some deep sea thing with huge eyes."

She'd whacked him hard with a notebook and then they'd kissed. Their interaction after that had been almost identical to the one Fox saw today. Dana had asked him to come over, Paul had said "Sorry, Dana, I volunteered to babysit my nephew tonight," and then he'd gone away again.

And apparently, that was enough to push Fox over a line he didn't even know he'd been toeing.

"He's not going to come over," he'd said.

Dana had been surprised to hear him talk, at first. Then she'd been angry.

"Excuse me?"

"You have to know he's stringing you along."

"I don't--" she spluttered. "As a matter of fact, it is none of your business." She kept her voice low as she turned away from him, stuffing her backpack in an uncharacteristically haphazard fashion.

"Listen," he pressed. In for a penny, in for a pound. "I just wanna know why. Why are you still with that guy?"

She laughed like she was being forced to. "Oh, I see what this is. You're--"

"I'm not coming onto you." He ran a hand over his clammy forehead. "It's just been bothering me."

She slammed her locker shut and didn't meet his eyes. "Well, now you're bothering me." As she walked away, she looked like she'd like to turn back and say something else, something really biting. She appeared to think better of it and just marched away from him instead. Her orange ponytail swung in lockstep with her stride.

Now she's asking him for help.

"What?" he says, mouth hanging open a little.

She ignores him. "Football practice is tonight. Paul will be in the locker room in about," she checks her watch. "Fifteen minutes."

Fox just gapes at her.

"You're in cross country, right? I looked you up in the yearbook." He nods. "Good. And where are you going now?"

He looks at her with suspicious eyes. "Cross country."

"Perfect." She closes her locker with a bang like a striking gavel. "You'll take me with you."

"You can just go to the track yourself," he says. "You don't need me to take you there."

"No," she clarifies. "I want you to take me to the locker room."

Fox tries to argue, he really tries. He isn't nearly invested enough in this relationship to risk being punished when they get caught. He speaks at length to this point, at a rising volume. Unfortunately, Dana has a strategy of her own. She gives just as good as she gets while they argue, but then, when Fox has had enough and stomps away, she follows him. Realizing she'll just follow him all the way to the locker room, he takes an awkward minute to re-evaluate the situation, Dana standing fuming behind his back.

"You really think you're going to see or hear something about you?" he asks.

"Well, no, of course not. Not naturally, anyway."

He sighs. "You want me to bring it up." She nods. "But I don't even know Paul, I have never spoken to him!"

Dana gives him a hard look. "Fox, if it bothers you so much to listen to him lie, you should be happy to get him to tell the truth."

And she's right, he realizes.

That's how they find themselves in the empty locker room, mere minutes from being discovered, Dana's hands over her face while Fox changes faster than he ever has in his life.

"Okay, get in," he says, once he's crammed his school clothes into his backpack and placed everything on the hook. She's lucky the bottom of his locker in here is much emptier than his regular one.

She folds herself down into the cramped space and gives him a thumbs up. Before he closes it, he says, "You won't be able to say anything after I close this."

"I know." She looks annoyed.

"So do you want to say anything?"

"Yeah." She glares up at him, her eyes the only part of her that isn't in shadow. "Close the damn door, Fox."

He sits on the bench with his homework in his hands as the other athletes trickle in. The pages are just a prop-- he's listening for Paul, who comes in after a few minutes with a group of football players, laughing raucously. They're at a different group of lockers, somewhere behind him. His cross country teammates have already arrived and are making noise and chatting too loudly for Fox to make out what the footballers are saying, so he stands and pretends to stretch.

Then, his heart pounding, he sidles over to his teammate, Collins. "You know Dana Scully?"

Collins looks confused. "Yes? She's in my history class."

He makes himself fidget, like he's nervous to be asking, and says, "Does she have a boyfriend?"

"Why are you asking me? I hardly know her."

"Well, who might know? Could you ask around?"

He heaves a put-upon sigh, but walks over to another of their teammates and speaks to them. From there, it isn't long until one of them darts gleefully over to the football players.

Paul's voice cracks over their heads like a whip, halting all conversation.

"Who the hell is asking?"

And then he's coming around the corner, looking pissed off. His jersey hangs on his shoulders at a weird angle, like he just got it over his head before he came over.

"Mulder? You wanna date my girlfriend?"

Fox is a little afraid, he'll admit it. Some of the blood from his face seems to drain into his feet, pumping in and preparing him to run.

"Oh, uh." He looks around. Everyone is watching them, eyes darting from one to the other. The football players are leaning around the corner, wide grins on their faces. Even the swimmers have come around to see what's happening, padding over barefoot in their swimsuits.

"I was just asking if she was dating anybody. I didn't know she was your girlfriend. I don't even care about her that much." He's aware that this could be the fatal flaw of their entire plan-- that this innocent act depends on Paul being so blithely unobservant that he never noticed Fox listening to their conversations at Dana's locker.

"Well, now you know, idiot. Watch your mouth."

Well, there's that. Still, Fox knows he should to be very careful about what he says next. He's still not really sure how this is going to play out. What if he was wrong about him? He takes a deep breath.

"I will. I'm just curious, though-- how did you land a girl like that?"

Paul's eyes flash dangerously, but he laughs. "Oh man, Mulder. You did not just say that." The rest of the football team is laughing, too.

"No, I'm serious. Dana is great. How did you get her attention?"

Paul sobers and looks right into Mulder's eyes. "Dana is a redhead and boring as hell. I have never met a chick who talks more about her grades. On the other hand, I could date anyone I wanted in this school. Do you know why I'm still with her?"

Fox shakes his head.

"Because she's almost ready, man." At this, the footballers holler and make lewd gestures. Fox interprets them correctly.

"You think she'll have sex with you?"

One of the football players guffaws. "It's been two years! She'd better put out after two years!"

Another one says, "I wouldn't be surprised if she gives it up tonight."

Furrowing his brow, Fox asks, "What's tonight?"

Paul takes a menacing step closer. "What's it to you, dork? Why are you asking these questions? Researching how to make Dana fall in love with you?"

"Is she in love with you?" he asks, and it sounds like a challenge.

Paul's nostrils flare but he turns his head. "What do you think? She's been begging me to meet her family. Trying to take me tux shopping for prom. Of course she's in love with me." As he speaks, he's scanning the room just like Fox had, gauging the reactions from their classmates.

"And tonight," he says, almost grandly like he's making a royal announcement, "I'm gonna tie off the net."

"What does that mean?" he asks, honestly puzzled.

"I'm gonna come over for family dinner and convince her to go all the way." He says it like he thinks Fox is an idiot for needing an explanation.

After that, the locker room is a chorus of hooting and jabbering. Paul turns away from Fox to sneer something to his friends when a whistle suddenly cuts through the noise-- time to hit the field. Before he's tugged away, Paul looks at Mulder again.

"Maybe you can date her when I'm finished, jerk. Hope you like sloppy seconds."

And then he's gone, rushing away to football practice.

When everyone is gone and the locker room is empty again, Fox realizes he's smiling. He feels incredible. It had taken no time at all to get Paul to spill his guts to him, and he was right about everything! Well, Paul was planning to go to Dana's house for dinner tonight, but he really had been stringing her along the rest of the time! And what a confession it was-- not only the incriminating evidence he wanted, but even more besides! This proves Paul was operating with forethought, that he'd planned to use Dana in this way for a long time--

A thump comes from his locker and Fox spins the combination into the lock, feeling triumphant. He flings it open and grins at Dana.

She's still crouched in the same position, but now her face is hidden in her knees. The smile dies on his lips as he takes in the way her shoulders are shaking and the near-silent gasps of air he can hear despite her efforts to muffle them in her jeans.

"Dana?" He lowers himself on the bench on front of her. She doesn't respond.

"What do you think?" he asks, feeling helpless and a little lost. "Is that enough to break it off?"

She makes a wet sound that he realizes is supposed to be a laugh, then she lifts her head to blink up at him.

"Truthfully?"

Her eyes and nose are red and watery and her voice sounds choked and frail like she just woke up. He can't look away.

"Of course I want the truth."

She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "I think Paul is getting single-er as we speak."

His mouth twitches and hers does too, and then they're laughing together.

He doesn't know why she decided to trust him with this, why she came to him for help even though she'd been angry at him for telling her the truth. In the end, it doesn't matter. When he listens to Dana laugh like this, he can honestly say he has never heard a more genuine sound in his entire life.

[stoutduke]

Critical Role: Dusk

We all know Dusk is some kind of bad guy because of her dream, but whether or not they're a willing one, we don't know. We saw what they really are and that they were about to do something to Fearne and her mom. Matt said that hints at what was going on were being dropped and I want to figure out what they were.

One is that Dusk's story about getting separated from Fearne's parents doesn't add up even with how weird time is between the feywild and theirs. Joe said that her parents came by his place many times, which means that if Dusk were with them, Joe would've known them.

Two, when Imogen messaged Fearne's parents they didn't mention Dusk at all. At first, thinking they just didn't mention them because they're scattered brained like Fearne made sense, but if you add it with every other clue it leads to a different story. It was weird for them not to mention Dusk at all considering Dusk has a locket with their pictures in it. A relationship where they're close enough to have a locket of them and then got separated would almost for sure make Dusk worth mentioning in the reply.

Three, it seemed like Dusk wasn't using their powers to their full extent during the race. They only used the cantrip eldritch blast and lay on hands once. It might've been because they didn't have spells that were useful while racing, but that comes off as a bit convenient when they didn't burn a single spell slot.

Four, right after she asked Laudna out and got rejected she tried getting with Orym. Normally people aren't so quick to jump from one person to another especially when the people you're interested in are friends. It seemed like she was trying to increase her closeness with people in the group as fast as she could. Sleeping with Orym would've been a quick way to get closer and create more familiarity with them and maybe the group and also gain some trust.

On a different subject, I'm going to go over some theories about what I think could be going on with Dusk and her job. After their discussion with someone in their dream they said fuck and color flashed across their face and then stopped. I get the sense that the colors appearing across their face and then disappearing are a reference to some inner turmoil. The colors could represent her emotions and true desires and her stopping it represents the facade she keeps up to please her superiors and to keep them from finding out she wants out. Outwardly to their boss she might be more obedient, but on the inside i think she wants to be free. In a conversation with Fearne she mentioned that she doesn't want to live inside a box, she doesn't like being restricted. I get the sense that she considers her job a box and she's looking for a way out, but it's hard to get out when the people you work for can get into your head. They might not be a willing party in killing the Calloways.

Since she was contacted in her dream by someone about her mission she might be a kind of puppet for someone. She might be given orders in her dreams that she fulfills subconsciously when she's awake. If the awake version of her isn't aware of any missions then she's all the more convincing as a kind, good person and it would be a lot harder to catch her in a lie if the awake version of her doesn't know she's lying. Or she could have two versions of herself on purpose in order to be better at tricking people.

Another theory is she might be subtley trying to sabotage herself, so her friends free her from her patrons control. If her patron is able to get in her head they might also be able to see what she's doing, so she'd have to be very careful in what and how she says things. She told Fearne she doesn't like living inside a box, which could've been her saying she wants to be free of her patrons influence. Her saying her mind's mixed up could be her saying she's not herself. She's also said multiple times that she was worried that the version of her she doesn't remember might not be a good person, another reference to her situation and a call for help. The last possible act of sabotage I noticed was that she revealed herself inside Joe's shop when only Fearne and her mom were in the room, she didn't confirm if Fearne's dad was there. Fearne's mom said they were getting close to finishing what they're doing, if Fearne's dad didn't get killed or captured because she didn't see if he was outside, he'd likely still be able to finish whatever they're doing. Her risking that doesn't make sense. Dusk also knows that Joe is pretty familiar with Fearne's parents, so she knows that attacking Fearne's mom inside his shop would likely cause Joe to use his large powerful automatons against her. I think she wants to be stopped and is willing to risk being killed for the chance that her new friends will be able to figure out she's being controlled and that she can't directly ask for help because they're in her head.

[awkwardgtace]

Character development questions!!

Alessia 💃

Melody ✍️

Felix 😄

Corus 🙂

Ryder 🚗

Feel free to talk about them in general or in any specific AU you might have in mind!! (You don’t have to answer all of them)

tumblr almost stole this one from me! Ask Game

Most of these were kind of general answers since they sorta follow through on the character more than the au. If I did have specifics for any it would have been mentioned though!

💃: How do they feel about dancing and are they any good at it? Do they prefer solo, partnered, or group dancing? (Alessia)

Alessia in all aus loves dancing, but isn't very good at it. So she prefers dancing with partners and groups. If she's giant she especially loves getting to dance while holding tiny partner(s) close. If she's small she doesn't mind just getting pressed against a giant chest and being part of the fun. Standing on a hand she has fun too especially when it's giant smiles sent her way.

✍: What does your character’s handwriting look like? Do they write letters often? What other contexts do they usually write in, if any? (Melody)

Consistently horrible handwriting. Like bad enough when it's just for her eyes that other people will struggle to read it. If she slows down and takes time to write it's much more legible.

In general she doesn't write letters, but she writes notes a lot. For games, something to remember, or to help her stay awake when she can't keep her hands busy. it's often things that only make sense to her.

😄: How can you tell when they’re really happy? What sorts of things make them happy? How often do they smile? (Felix)

You can tell Felix is really happy usually by how he talks. There's a difference in the tone he uses, more emotion to it. A bit softer and higher pitch too, though the pitch change isn't much. He gets happy when he finishes working on a design/outfit. Spending time with people he's close to, even if it's nothing he's too interested in. Doubly so if he's a giant because he knows he scares them. He also gets ecstatic when people where the clothes he's made them. Smiling is a bit more rare and harder to catch. He'll only really smile when he thinks no one is paying attention to him. He has a reputation usually. Although if you're someone close to him you'll see a soft warm smile pretty often.

🙂: What are three of their personality traits that others would generally consider positive? (Corus)

Protective, he's definitely the friend to go to when you need help or just want to feel safe. optimistic, generally thinks things can and will work out Trusting, he takes a lot at face value when it comes to people. He's not naive, but he has trusted the wrong people. He'd never take the risk when it's a serious danger though (like showing a tiny mira to someone his size, or a tiny corus walking up to a human he doesn't know)

🚗: In a modern AU, what kind of job would they have, if any? (Ryder)

I actually hinted at this a bit in the oneshot (that might be an AU now) where Rhys is a borrower who likes to play pranks. Ryder would run a store probably on etsy where he makes resin printed minis and paints them. For something a bit better he'd run a game store. The guy is very much the dungeons and dragons/general tabletop games nerd and would make a living out of it. The part of him that started with war has to keep up somewhere :D

[sauntervaguelydownward]

HI HI!! For the OC asks: 15, 21, B for Dee; 3, 27, H for Coral; and 28, 42, J free space (aka pick any character(s) you want!)

Ooh, questions!

Dee the living house (Monster of the Week):

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first? Dee has never thought ahead about anything in their life, with one exception; when it was invited to a certain support group to meet new friends it did rehearse how to introduce itself. They can be slow to speak, but it's because their age and nature lead them to think at a slower pace than humans. When they do speak, they say exactly what they are thinking in the most straightforward manner possible.

Why do they get up in the morning? It would be very easy for Dee to go dormant; not fully I suspect, but to exist as a slightly haunted house that only partially rouses itself on occasion. There's a longing in Dee, though, and that's what keeps it 'getting up'; a desire it can't identify but that keeps it close to those who treat it kindly, gets it excited for the idea of friendship even as it thinks of people as self-destructive parasites. It doesn't know what it wants, but it wants.

What inspired you to create them? A Tumblr post, actually. I knew I was intrigued by a ghost character but I was struggling to come up with a story that really clicked for me. Out of the blue I remembered this post, in particular the tag 'if a haunted house is a person what happens when the family chooses to treat its sharp jagged past with the respect and care it deserves'. I latched onto the idea of a haunted house being allowed to grow beyond the trauma that shaped it, and Dee developed from there.

Coral the predatory mermaid (Crossroads Carnival):

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?) Coral needs activity around her to sleep. She comes from a large community where there was always someone awake and active, so silence and stillness both reinforce her feelings of isolation and make her feel less safe. On nights when she isn't out with her monstrous crew she tries to be one of the first in the carnival to sleep, and if she is up later she's willing to sleep out in the open if she finds a spot where people are still up and making noise. As a last resort she'll sing herself to sleep; it's a pale comfort, but it's better than silence.

What causes them to feel dread? Coral doesn't let herself think about the future. She lost everything once - her family, the sea, even her language and name - and nothing will ever feel permanent to her again. She has rebuilt, found a way to be content if not truly happy, but there's always a looming sense that this too will be lost someday.

What trait do you admire most? Her ferocity. Lay a hand on her or her friends and you'll lose it (or at least a few fingers, as one particular asshole learned). She doesn't second guess, doesn't hesitate, doesn't fear.

Hmm, who else do I want to ramble about... Theo is my beloved eldritch-horror-to-be and Loki is one of my oldest OCs who's been with me since I was 14ish, so you get both.

Theo the sorcerous mutant (DnD):

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? Absolutely not. A lie, even a well-intended one, is a way to manipulate someone else and control their perception. Theo was (unintentionally) traded for power by their mother, and lived for a decade with a mysterious cosmic horror slowly warping their body and the certainty that when it was done it would come to claim them. She was born a pawn, and the feeling of utter powerlessness kept her living on the edge of a scream that wouldn't end. The only way to cope was by maintaining absolute control over as much of her life as possible, to an almost comical extent; she never forgave the stranger who saved her life without her permission. Even though they no longer live with the horror's influence, she will always fiercely resist any effort at all to influence her.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? For a long time, Theo's ultimate goal was power. They were convinced that when the force behind their mutation was done reshaping them it would come to claim them personally, and she was absolutely determined that she would be strong enough to fight it. Not to defeat it and free herself, as she actively refused to believe that was possible, but to make it hurt. She believes everything has a price, and she intended to make it pay for her life in blood. With that singular goal in mind, there was very little they wouldn't do to make themself stronger. The only line they wouldn't cross is trading another person's freedom as was done to them. Against her expectations, however, her eldritch creator was destroyed in the end. She let go of her need for power and is currently living untethered by any goals.

Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character? I tried to keep them to a standard DnD build as much as possible, but there was definitely some tweaking and homebrewing needed to create Theo as I envisioned her. A reflavoured simic hybrid was a good starting point as they gain a couple of new mutations as they level up, but Theo mutated to a far greater extent; by the end she was a mass of tentacles with digitigrade legs, random patches of scales and insect-like shell, and bulging eyes that could pop out of the sockets to extend on stalks.

Loki the manic pixie dream child (from an original story):

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? Loki will claim to hate lies, but he lies to himself constantly. He was abducted and raised by pixies, who adored him and showered him with love; until he started to grow up and they got bored. They tried to switch him back for the changeling they'd left with his human family, but he refused to keep his past secret. His parents were horrified; from their perspective, he was the strange fey creature replacing their 'real' child, and they wanted nothing to do with him. Twice abandoned and left alone in an unfamiliar world, he coped by rewriting his own memory. He convinced himself that he was just lost, and his pixie family were out there looking for him. He has since relied on this single coping mechanism for everything he doesn't want to face, wrapping himself in layers of denial to shield himself from any pain.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal? Loki's driving goal is to be loved by someone who won't leave. Despite his denial, some part of him is aware of why he was abandoned, and so he has built his entire identity around being the most unique and interesting person around. He might be strange, aggravating, even infuriating, but he must never ever be boring. Nothing could matter more than that.

Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character? Loki was one of the first characters I created for that story so there wasn't much canon in place yet, but he shaped its development through the introduction of pixies; up to that point I had focused on werewolves, vampires, and other supernaturals with ties to humanity.

[ravs6709]

Won't You Shine With Me (Oh Distant Star Of Mine)- Hekster, Kam, Marelliana, Fedex

Act 1. Act 2 (here). Act 3. Act 4. Act 5. Act 6.

Or read on ao3 here!

Word count: 4.7k words

Act 2 to my revue starlight au! If you haven't read act 1 yet, make sure you do that! And okay, I say all those ships, but act 2 has focus on hekster and kam, the other two will get their turn in the later acts

Fun fact, this was going to be a oneshot, but then it was getting long so since i was already splitting into acts, i decided to post each act separately

Again, I know very little of theatre lol, I'm just vibing here.

Warnings: censored swearing, brief mention of drowning that isn't too serious but warning anyway

•~•~•~•~•~•

ACT 2

SCENE 1

"Punishment?" Stina gasped, jolting up.

Her heart pounded wildly, almost terrified, before realizing that she was in her room.

"Are you okay?" Linh asked from the other side of the room, awake, but in bed. "That startled me."

"It's nothing," Stina replied.

She had no memory of getting into bed. So was it seriously just one long dream? Well, a dream made more sense than an alicorn being real, and Foxfire having secret duels in its basement that allowed people to magically transform into outfits that looked like something Stina would see in a cartoon.

(It was more realistic than Sophie Foster being back in her life.)

...there was a suitcase in the room. The suitcase that belonged to Sophie. The pillow beside her was also warm.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Linh asked.

"Yeah," she breathed, retaking in the events that had happened the night before. Well, if an alicorn was real, then maybe it was the reason she woke up in bed. "Where's Sophie?"

"She went for a walk. You're having her room here?"

"Uh, yeah. I probably should have asked you in advance..."

Linh smiled. "It's fine! I don't mind."

Stina nodded. "Thank you."

She quickly got herself changed so she could go look for Sophie. She let her off last night, but she needed answers. She ran around the school, but didn't find her. She figured that she'd just see her in class, then. Sophie was sitting at her desk, and the moment Stina opened her mouth to talk to her, Mr. Forkle walked in. 

Of course.

Classes were extra lively this time, and Stina didn't have the idle time to chat with Sophie. It wasn't like she was completely avoiding her, because she was present when they were with other people. Sophie even struck a few, mildly awkward conversations with her during lunch. Never alone, never in a place that Stina could ask her about the revue yesterday.

 When Stina and Tam were paired together to practice another dance, Tam was a lot more aggressive in his movements, and she could barely keep up with him.

"Hey Bangs Boy, calm yourself!" Keefe said from the sidelines.

If she hadn't known hadn't known better, she probably would have said something similar to him. But she did know, and she wasn't in the mood to deal with an angry Tam. Especially when she was the cause for it.

"The revues were supposed to be duels," Tam whispered, "why did you interfere?"

"Silveny never stopped me, and I thought that I needed to act. Is there any other reason that I have?"

"Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

"No, but I'm trying to get Sophie to explain it to me."

"You're saying you never got an email?"

"An email?"

Tam sighed, "Oh, for f*cks sake. You were never even meant to be here, were you?"

"I don't think so."

"It's not like you can opt out now."

"Okay," she said. She figured that she'd have to try harder now too.

"You can't opt out of acting now, now that you're giving yourself to the stage."

"I think I get that much." 

She'd said she'd quit, she could have just left the two of them alone to fight each other, but she didn't. In the end, she really was an actor, even towards herself, huh?

SCENE 2

"You should quit the auditions," Sophie told her.

"What?" Was she serious? The idea of being the Top Star, of shining so bright, Sophie was telling her to drop out? "Tam told me you can't opt out."

"Who told him that?" Sophie asked.

"I trust his opinions more than most of of the people in the school." She shrugged. "Why should I quit when I've just started?"

"Because you want to quit acting, because you have a fading glimmer that won't make it in these revues."

"What do you know?" Stina snapped. "People get irritated and say whatever all the time. How do you know if I wasn't doing the exact same thing? You haven't seen me in ten years, what do you know about my skills and my 'glimmer?' I'll shine as bright as I want to! I'd say that you're the type of person who who would never discourage someone from following their passion, from doing what they think is right, but what do I know about you, Sophie Foster?"

Not for the first time in two days, she found herself to be the biggest fool, to think that things would stay the same. That they'd carry on from where they'd left off. She was stupid to think that Sophie cared about their promise as much as she did. What did she even know about Sophie? So much time was enough to change one's personality.

"I finally have the opportunity to be on the same stage as you, and you want me to quit?" Stina asked, her voice wavering so much more than she wanted it to.

Sophie flinched. Good, feel just as devastated as she felt right now. Look just as shattered as the relationship that they shared.

"That's not what I meant at all—"

"Well that's certainly what it sounds like! I came all this way, I begged my parents to enroll me in a crap ton of different lessons when they just wanted me to help them take care of the business, I worked my *ss off so I could get myself into Foxfire—which has a stupidly low acceptance rate, not that it matters to you, since you have your stupidly bright 'glimmer'—I came here because of you, and now you're telling me to quit. Tell me, what the hell does this sound like?"

"I don't want you to quit acting," Sophie whispered, tugging on an eyelash. Apparently she kept at that habit, and Stina suppressed the urge to tug her hand like she would in the past. "I want you to quit the revues."

Quit the revues, with its bright lights and grand stage, with its challenge to sing and dance and fight, where Stina had actually shone brighter than someone else for once, had beat Tam when he was better than her in every aspect? "If I quit now, how can I call myself an actor? How could I continue to stand on a stage knowing that I had ran from it?"

"Quit the revues, for my sake—for the sake of our promise," was all Sophie replied.

Stina stilled, because that was the first time that Sophie was referring to it. "You're so stubborn," she muttered, turning away with a huff.

Her phone rang.

SCENE 3

Tam took a deep breath, then continued on. Step, step, point of the toe, spin around, repeat again. The room was silent save for the sound of his light humming. He glided around the room with the ease that came from years and years of practice, but it wasn't enough. Never had been enough. It needed to be enough.

"So, Stina?" Someone asked, and Tam tripped over his feet.

A hand wrapped around his waist and another grabbed his hand as he was spun around, turning his embarrassing fall into a dip.

 As a stage performer, he had to be used to people being handsy with him, but most people didn't touch him when he wasn't performing. There was one person though, who had the audacity to do something like that. A person with ice blue eyes and an infuriating smirk.

"What are you doing here?" Tam asked.

"I came here to see you," Keefe replied, his eyes shining as he leaned them both lower. "So, Stina?"

When Keefe let him up, he immediately shifted so that he led, twirling Keefe and then dipping him. "It doesn't matter. I lost."

"If it doesn't matter, why are you scowling?"

Spinning and twirling, making use of the entire room as they moved, they alternated between leading and following.

"You tell me," Tam quipped. "Did you come here just to bother me?"

Keefe laughed. "About Stina? Not really. In general, yeah."

"I hate it when you do that," Tam said, setting the pace to be a little faster, a little less forgiving.

"Do what?"

"Be so casual about the revues. Find it enjoyable to disrupt my practice."

"Am I disrupting you when we're dancing here together?" Keefe asked, something indecipherable about his voice.

Step, step, rotate, push against each other. "In this case, no. But you don't do this for practice, for yourself. You just... do what you want."

"Are you still mad at me that I got one of the lead roles in Keeper of the Lost Cities instead of you?"

"No." It was a half-lie. The role of the Empath wasn't the problem, it was that he lost to Keefe. Kept losing to Keefe. But he wouldn't understand that, when he kept glowing and shining and casting most of the others into the shadows. The only two who shone brighter than him were Fitz and Biana, the Vacker siblings, and two of Keefe's best friends, so losing to them didn't matter as much to Keefe.

The worst part of it was that Keefe hardly tried. All that glow was completely natural, completely innate. Tam had the natural talent too, but it would always be frustrating to see someone hardly try and consistently do better than you. Then again, he wasn't alone in that part; seeing Dex and Marella lift their heads and glare at the Vackers. Those two could compete with the two stars; Keefe was the star that Tam wanted to outshine.

(He honestly couldn't even figure out why he was so fixated on this, why he had been fixated on this for nearly a year now. He wasn't even the hardest worker in the group, he didn't care about winning as much as some of the others did.

So why, why did this matter to him?)

"You're no fun when you won't even talk back to me," Keefe muttered.

Tam opened his mouth to reply, but then two phones rang, playing out the same ringtone, when he knew that they used different ones.

"Well, looks like we're both going down there today. You think we'll go against each other?" Keefe asked.

Tam smirked. "I hope so."

SCENE 4

"Millions of stars twinkle in the sky, Yet only few will catch your eye. I am Foxfire student, Tam Song! I'll outshine everyone!" Tam unsheathed his sword.

"What a speech, did you practice?" Keefe asked, and a spotlight flashed on him, where he was standing on a platform high up on the stage.

"The brightest, coolest stars are the ones that you see, Through song and dance will I gleam, I am Foxfire student, Keefe Sencen! I won't let you beat me, Tam!" A soft shing of a sword being unsheathed could be heard.

"You can't make fun of my speech with what you've said," Tam told him, staring up at him.

He stomped on the ground and a pillar grew from the stage, elevating him so that he was now on Keefe's level.

"Swirling and whirling the world goes round, The star shines above it all, waiting for the one to be crowned."

☆ REVUE OF CONTENTION☆

Round and round and round, they circled each other as they both sang, pillars supporting their every step. The pillars that held their previous steps would crumble into ash. Circle and circle, slowly approach each other, slowly reach the centre of the stage. When they reached the centre, a large platform formed under their feet, enough space for them to truly start their fight.

"A single bright light won't stand out much, Who'll catch the star's attention, that star is our judge."

Tam sang, charging forward, carefully tracing his feet in movements he had practiced for so long. Step, step, turn, slash. Slid the blade down Keefe's until they were no longer clashing, pretended to stagger so that Keefe would try and take the moment for himself, only for Tam to strike. Movements with the sword weren't ones that he was able to practice, but just partnering with Keefe for exercising and practicing the techniques that would be used on stage were enough for him to figure out his habits, the way he moved.

He ducked, swinging his sword in an upward arc, the aiguillette in sight, and his sword was about to cut it—

Clank! Metal clashed against metal, and Tam was shoved down.

"The two lights travel on the same wavelength, You're not the only one to know the other's weakness and strength."

Keefe slashed at him as he sang, and Tam could barely find a moment to get himself to stand up. He was edged towards the end of the platform. Keefe smirked at him, and he had the urge to really hit him. Instead, he let himself fall, let his vision of the stage catch him so he could regain his footing. He climbed up and up again, put himself back on even footing with Keefe.

"Do tell me what is it that you seek? That you would climb here to this peak?"

Swords clashed against each other again.

"Shouldn't you know the answer to your question? (I should know the answer) I thought you knew me enough to grasp my intention. (I thought I knew you enough)"

Each attack was blocked and parried, each clash louder than the previous.

"You know, I've always hated you."

Tam thought that the words had slipped from his mouth, but instead, they came from Keefe.

"I hate, I hate, I hate..."

"I mean, you already knew that. You already knew that I find you and your face irritating. You already knew it's why I come and bother you."

"You should know that I feel the same way too," Tam replied.

"I hate, I hate, I hate..."

"You act too familiar with me, you're always distracting me solely to be annoying. Beating me in this isn't enough for you to partake in the revues," Tam said. "I'm here because I want to be the 'Top Star', what about you?"

"Am I not allowed to want to be the 'Top Star' too?"

"Since when did you care about something like that? Don't tell me that it's because of me."

Their feet kept moving as they fought, a familiar pattern that the two of them had danced dozens of times.

"And what if it was?" Keefe asked, putting a surprising amount of strength into their next clash.

Tam stumbled back. "Annoying me wouldn't mean that much to you. It would mean that you don't care about winning, it would be solely about me, and Silveny would have never let down here if it were about that."

"Maybe I hate you that much. Maybe I'm here because I want you to lose, and then I can have you watch as I win. Ever think of that, Bangs Boy? It's not like you know me that well that you can say otherwise."

"I hate you," Tam said. "I hate you."

"I hate, I hate, I hate..."

He hated his infuriating, cocky personality, he hated his ice blue eyes and hair that shone like sunlight, especially under the stage, hated his annoying smirk that made his heart beat faster, hated his words and his talent that only made him want to act better.

"I hate what that bright light of yours does to me. I hate that it's only there for me to see."

Sparks flew from the force they clashed swords with. Tam could feel his heart pumping, and he had never felt so alive on the stage where the spotlights pointed at the two of them.

"I've never wanted anything in my life more, Than to shine brighter than I have before. I hate that I need you there to watch as I soar."

"What were you like before I knew you?" Tam asked him. "What were you like that me not knowing that matters?"

"Fitz used to walk a block over to my house and drag me out of bed every morning. I'd get to school and then I'd ditch as many classes as possible. I only enrolled here because Daddy Dearest was being a piece of sh*t as always and he wanted me to go into acting, but I agreed because it meant I got to live here."

"Sounds a lot like Linh and I, then," Tam commented.

"Don't say that," Keefe snapped. "I hate you, remember that. I came to this damn academy, and then I met you and you became my roommate. Next thing I knew, I was getting out of bed on my own, and I was going to class on time consistently. I could've been doing what I always did, ditch and do whatever I wanted, but for some f*cking reason, the thing I wanted to do was be with you! I hate your stupid bangs and your attitude but I keep coming back to you. I hate it. I could've spent my afternoons playing pranks on people, but instead I practice with you. I hate it."

"We'll clash swords and dance as we fight and compare, I'll shine bright for as long as you're there."

They moved closer and closer and they were right in each other's faces, then backed away for space. The platform beneath them started crumbling, but the stage  was giving them a new platform, suspended by two ropes. They fought and chased each other from one platform to the next. They ran across the stage, taking hold of the ropes and swinging over and under, revolving around each other in a way that was natural.

"I used to hate the stage," Keefe continued, "but I think I'm learning to love it."

"Because of me."

"Don't get so full of yourself, it's not only about you. You think Silveny would've let me down here if it were about that?" He echoed Tam's earlier words. "But you certainly make me want to try when I never did before."

Faster and faster they swung, and Tam realized that he was being met with the true force of Keefe's brilliance. Tam couldn't help but be in awe of this Keefe, this Keefe who never showed this to anyone in the past, and Tam was the first to witness this glow, this shine, this blinding light.

Shing!

A button flew in the air and two swords were dropped, Tam lost hold of the rope he was swinging from but was caught by an arm on the waist by Keefe, who was smiling a smile filled with unbridled glee. Tam's heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't even flee from this proximity. He was overly conscious of the fact that their legs were touching—skin to skin, because they both wore those skirts.

"You're beautiful when you're like this," he blurted breathlessly, his words slipping out before his brain could even think of them.

"I'm always beautiful," Keefe corrected, "it's part of my charm."

Tam scowled, not deigning him a response. He was right, but he didn't need that big of an ego boost.

Winning this revue was enough of one.

They finally descended to the ground, and Keefe set him down, his knees wobbling at the lack of support on his waist.

A spotlight shone down on Keefe, shining in his yellow outfit, a red jacket hanging over his shoulder. "Position Zero!" he declared, stabbing the ground with his sword. "I am Keefe Sencen!"

"Audition three! Over!" Silveny announced. "Keefe win!"

The curtains closed, hiding them from the audience's point of view.

"Well, that was intense," Keefe said. "Bangs Boy, you need a hand?"

Keefe offered his hand and Tam took it; in fact, he went several steps further and cupped Keefe's cheek with his other hand. He leaned forward.

"This isn't over, I'll beat you next time we compete."

He pulled away just enough to see irritation flash in those eyes of his. "Oh, for f*ck's sake."

And then Keefe kissed him. Tam froze in shock, then pulled him closer, closer, closer, melting into it, pouring in that still pent up passion he felt into it. One of them might have sighed into the kiss, but that was irrelevant, he was kissing Keefe.

"Some hatred this is," Keefe murmured against his lips. "You're right, this isn't over."

Tam pulled him closer again to shut him up. Again and again, until they grew more chaste, breathless.

"Of course I'm right," Tam said finally, taking amusement in the annoyed scrunch of Keefe's face. "Whatever this is—whatever we are to each other, it doesn't change that we are on the stage."

"Yeah, so don't expect me to go easy on you, Tam."

"Likewise, Keefe."

SCENE 5

Stina walked back into the elevator. The ringtone had startled her, but after seeing the icon of an alicorn spinning, she understood what that ringtone meant. She arrived in the underground theatre just in time to see the curtains close—was there another revue happening just now?—and then open again to show a blank stage.

"On this colourful stage of light and dark, I shine like a shooting star! Reborn, I am Foxfire student, Stina Heks! A dazzling night sky will be created!"

A new spotlight shone where her opponent stood.

"This stage made of hopes and dreams to pursue, Is not a place for the listless and those who don't value, Standing here, I am Foxfire student, Linh Song! I love the stage too much to lose here!"

Stina froze. "Linh?"

She almost asked 'what are you doing here?' but realized that if Tam was part of this, she should have expected that Linh would be too.

"I really like you, Stina," Linh said, idly twirling a light blue quarterstaff in her hand that matched her outfit. "I don't have anything against you, personally."

"Is this because I beat Tam yesterday?" she asked.

Linh smiled. "It'd be easy to think that it's as simple as that, wouldn't it? I'm aware of what happened yesterday, and I know why you won. Whether it was against Tam or Keefe or Biana, the result wouldn't have changed, nor would my reaction now be different."

Stina had only known her for a year, but she knew her enough to recognize the inflection of her voice when she was angry. "What do you mean?"

A loud whirring sounded from above, and Stina moved back just in time to avoid a massive downpour of water that nearly fell on her head, continuously pouring, getting her boots wet.

"We're stage performers, we give ourselves to the stage. Every joy, every sorrow, every bit of rage."

Small platforms appeared and Linh ascended them. Stina stood still, confused, until she realized that the water was rising.

"Won't this just drain off the stage and affect our—hypothetical—audience?" Stina asked.

Linh didn't reply, instead continuing what she was singing.

"I've worked hard for years to try and climb to the top, And Iwon't have it to hear that you'll stop!"

☆ REVUE OF CONVICTION ☆

Oh, Stina understood everything now. "Linh," she called out, hopping onto a platform.

"You think that I would have climbed up here for nothing, You think that in my heart I lack the yearning and loving."

Maybe she didn't love the stage as much as Linh did, but she still had the passion. She was here.

"You lack the conviction to make it through the revues."

"Then why am I here to see it through?"

"You're not here because you love the stage," Linh told her, and irritation flowed through her veins, she went for the attack. "You're here because you made a promise with Sophie."

"Is that what you think it is?"

"No," she blocked her axe with the staff, pushing it aside, nearly knocking her into the steadily rising water. Apparently it did not drain off the stage. "I'm sure that is the case. I won't stop you from quitting, I'm your friend, and I'll support you through your decision. But you threw yourself into the revues without knowing what you're getting yourself into, not because of the stage, but because Sophie's here. You saw Sophie about to lose to Tam, and you jumped in."

"Take away that special someone, and what are you left with?"

"If Sophie didn't come here, would you have just transferred yourself to the production group? Would you have given up?"

"No," Stina answered. But honestly... she wasn't entirely sure of the answer.

"Take away that promise, and what are you left with? (What am I left with?) What are you left with? (What am I left with?) What are you left with if you lack the passion to be on stage?"

"Stina Heks, are you an actor or not?"

She opened her mouth to answer the question, only to be knocked into the water. She sank and the world moved in slow motion, falling, falling, Linh's singing growing quieter.

"If you truly love the stage, then you must show it!"

The words jolted her to reality, that she was drowning. She was sinking, falling, gaining distance from the star that she needed to grasp. Did she love the stage? It started with Sophie, started with the promise, but she could have chosen to break the promise, they were both five, it wouldn't have meant much. Especially after they separated a month later.

Or she could have just not made the promise in the first place. It may had been Sophie who introduced her to theatre, but it was Stina who was in awe, it was Stina who first made the promise.

That promise was in the foreground of her mind the entire time, but Stina Heks was not a person who did things half-heartedly.

She began swimming through this water, but had to drop the axe because it was too heavy. She reached the surface, but the nearest platform was too far away.

Something nudged her hand, and she instinctively grabbed it. It was the staff that Linh used, and now Linh was using it to drag her to the platform that she was sitting on.

"Linh," she said in between breaths. "What the f*ck was that?"

She smiled sweetly. "You weren't going to drown, it was all special effects. That's how the stage works, remember? It was all just a test of your conviction. And to me, you've passed."

She ripped off the golden button that she wore, tossing it to the now-draining water.

"Position Zero," Linh said, jabbing the ground. "This is Linh Song!"

"Audition four! Over!" Silveny announced. "Linh win!"

The curtains closed.

"An—an act?" Stina asked, confused but dragging herself to lay on the platform.

"We're stage performers, are we not? We act out the roles that are necessary to play. I wanted to see how much the stage meant to you, and if it didn't mean anything, you'd continue sinking until you reached the bottom."

"So you were pretending the entire time?"

She hummed. "Not entirely. You saying you wanted to quit did make me upset, though, as I said, I would've supported you if you did choose to do so. I just wouldn't be able to bear it if you quit when you didn't want to. It was a little cathartic, if I had to be honest."

Stina took that all in. The revue yesterday was simple—just jump in there and save Sophie. This one was much more methodical and it scared the crap out of her.

"Do you think it's wrong if Sophie is my greatest motivator?" Stina asked, looking up at the ceiling that was really, really high up.

"I don't think it's wrong," Linh replied, "I think Tam and Keefe are doing the same thing. It's... complicated to explain."

"Definitely." It was more of a reminder to remember that she was not just a follower, not someone to be strung along by the promise, but that she needed to show the conviction required to grasp the star, to fulfil the promise. That was what she understood. "Will the other revues be more like this?" Stina asked. If they were, she really needed to be careful.

"Who's to say? This is my first. We all have things we're aiming for, and different ways we plan to achieve it. We have different ideals, different visions for the stage we want to create for ourselves."

"You're terrifying," Stina said, turning to look at her. "That was terrifying."

Linh smiled. "Thank you."

☆ LEADERBOARD ☆

1. — Fitz Vacker

2. — Biana Vacker

3. — Keefe Sencen

4. — Tam Song

5. — Linh Song

6. — Marella Redek

7. — Dex Dizznee

8. — Sophie Foster

9. — Stina Heks

☆                               ☆

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @keefeinnit @my-swan-song @impostertamsong @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc taglist? Just let me know!

[the-haunted-office]

Dialogue from my fanfic for use as... Sentence Starters!

Chapters 8-11

“When I mentioned earlier that standing around a broom closet would be a better use of your time, I meant it as a comparison to the useless running around you were doing, as sarcasm. It wasn't meant to be taken literally. Had I known that you would take it literally, I never would have said it in the first place.”

“I have no patience for those who wish to waste their lives standing around in broom closets.”

“Oh, come on. You really are no better than the last one. He, too, had an affinity for broom closets.”

"Please believe me, I am truly, truly sorry, especially for the potato thing, in case I didn't mention that before!”

“Please don't kill me! I'm sure we can come to a compromise of some sort, just please, please don't torture me and/or kill me!"

“If you ask me, the fact that they chose me I think shows that I have real management potential!"

“That sounds like something someone would make up just to try to get someone to come out of a closet."

“Are you my conscience?"

“I thought all those alarms were someone throwing a bar mitzvah.”

“This isn't a story - this is real life! And in real life, you don't have to do the things that other people tell you to do!”

“I realize that somewhere in there my feelings are supposed to be deeply hurt - and they are - but even more important than that is my overwhelming desire to not die.”

“I appreciate the opportunity and all, but I'm going to have to turn it down. I've decided to just cut my losses and call it a day."

“And just where do you think you are going?”

“Let's take a moment to do a short exercise. Turn to a partner now and practice saying: ‘My goodness, am I already 40? I am supposed to be a fully functional adult by now. I need to go reflect on my wasted life.’“

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I'm not a fictional character! I'm not a damsel in distress!”

“I’m in control of myself! ME! Do you hear that?! I'M IN CONTROL!”

“You really had me worried there for a moment. I honestly thought we had lost you.”

“I realize that was a lot to take in all at once, but now that you have had some time to rest, I do hope you are feeling well enough to continue.”

"Oh, wow, thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

“Since you have been sitting there unconscious, it gave me some time to think.”

“So far all you've done is boss me around and call me a moron and tell me that I'm insignificant, and I really... really... honestly do not care right now.”

“What is the whole endgame to all of this and what is my purpose in it all?"

“Asking for spoilers, are you? I'm afraid those won't help you.”

“It would help me tremendously to know what I'm getting myself into before deciding whether or not I want to get into it."

"I do not need a pep talk.”

“I am an expert at giving pep talks, so you are going to get one.”

“I take back that whole 'no offense' thing, by the way. I do mean offense. Full-on offense. In case you were wondering."

"Bit busy here, mate, don't have time for any of your weird spontaneous pep talks.”

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're supposed to be keeping it to a dull roar, remember?"

“Hang on, slow down a bit there! You're narrating too fast!"

“Hello? Are you awake yet?”

“Yup. The answer is yes. Unless you were about to ask if I just killed her, and then the answer is no. At least I am pretty sure I didn't just kill her.”

“If I wake her back up to check and she is alive, she'll probably kill me. So we'll just go with her being fine, at least I'm sure she is anyway."

“Ohhh, no, let's not pretend that any of this was due to any altruism on your part. We both know you don't have any.”

“What you just did was stupid and selfish and entirely pointless.”

“I've just realized that something doesn't make sense here."

“It seems you are beginning to understand. Good on you for learning basic logic.”

“I don't believe that is a good idea.”

“I think it's the bloody best idea anyone has ever had.”

“Right, so you must be absolutely gobsmacked by my genius deductions, genius because they came out of my brain."

“So much for me being a moron, huh?”

“My only shock comes from your belief that you are somehow a genius.”

“Get ready to put your foot in your mouth.”

“I know of somewhere else I'd like to put my foot right about now. And no, I'm not being figurative.”

[grievedeeply]

*slams down $20* I love your writing, can I ask for a fluffy oneshot post scooper-michael afton x reader where he comes home after vomiting up ennard and thinks the reader won't love him any more but she cleans him up comforts him OwO

OH MY GOD ANON YOURE A GENUIS!! the physical reaction i had while reading this. you can keep your money my payment is getting to do this incredible request omfg thank you

gn!reader, post-scooping michael

tws: kinda g0r3y because michael is yk.. dead. angst. a lot of self depreciation and mike thinking he isn't worthy. very sad until the end but it's worth it i promise!

always and forever — michael afton

almost a week had passed since you last saw michael.

he was your boyfriend, and the only person you ever truly loved in a romantic sense. sure, there were high school sweethearts, but as soon as he stepped into your life thoughts of anyone else faded and he took over your mind and heart immediately.

you'd been dating for a year, and with michael's new job, he worked nights. much to your dismay, since you had to wake up at 6:00AM to be sure you were awake to greet him when he came home.

though, it had been a few days without him showing up and it worried you.

you were aware of the circumstances he worked under, and the reasons. to put his little sister back together again. it was very vague, but you didn't want to pry or ask any more of him. anything involving his family was a sensitive subject and you knew it pained him to talk about it.

it wasn't uncommon for him to disappear for a day or two, telling you he needed to run an errand and that'd he'd be gone for a few days, but this time was different. he went to work and just.. never came back.

you began to fear for the worst, but you still hope that he would come home. though as the days passed, you became more and more tempted to file a missing persons report, and the first place you would check was his place of employment.

the place always scared you. michael had told you about it a few times and from what he had said it was an unpleasant, uncomfortable place. he had to crawl through the vents to get to other sections of the building. the things that lurked in the shadows there worried you, making you fear for the safety of your boyfriend, but you knew he could handle it. he was strong, he proved that with every day he came home.

he barely got any sleep, even from the first day you moved in together. he has at least 4 locks on the front door of your shared home, and you'd never asked about it. you assumed it was his paranoia that someone was out to get him for what his father had done.

you had begun watching the new episodes of his favorite tv show, 'the immortal and the restless,' to update him on when he got back.

if he ever did.

michael was confused at what had happened to him. he was so close, saving his sister was just out of reach. he was manipulated. no, she was manipulated. elizabeth, his sweet and innocent little sister, manipulated into a monster. he didn't even recognize her anymore.

a few low, but surprisingly loud beeps came from the scooper, and then it hit him. it wasn't painful at first. the feeling of death almost peaceful, until he opened his eyes again, laying on the sidewalk. he recognized his surroundings, but just barely.

he stood up. pain moved through his bones and his joints, and he looked down at his hands. he was purple. he looked down, at his body. more purple.

he wanted to wake up. all of this was just another nightmare.

quickly realizing he was in public in front of a bunch of strangers, he thought of the quickest way home. back home to you.

he cringed at the thought. you'd certainly leave him after seeing him like this. after his body was inhabited by that.. thing. giving a name for it would humanize it. but that thing had his sister, and he wouldn't stop until he was able to free her from it's clutches.

he limped down the road, turning down an alleyway to use the backroads preventing more people from seeing him. his mind lingered on you. he knew you wouldn't love him anymore. he didn't deserve you after this. he never deserved you at all.

he thought back to how you reacted when he told you about his family. his father, the serial killer and child murderer, responsible for all of those deaths at the freddy fazbear's pizza locations. his little brother, who's death he felt guilty for. the guilt often weighed him down, resting on his shoulders and never leaving. and his sister. he was told she disappeared, and he assumed that's all it was. until relatively recently.

you were so kind. you held him when he cried, encouraged him when he was down. you smiled at him, told him that you loved him.

"i will love you, always and forever."

the first time you said that to him was when he told you about his past. he didn't know how to react to it, his body tensing up as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tangling in his hair. he froze in your touch, before relaxing, his arms tightly wrapped around your middle.

and he thought about it again.

'i will love you, always and forever.'

he knew you meant it back then, but he didn't think you would anymore. he hadn't even seen himself in a mirror but he knew he was hideous. he knew he was practically just skin and bones now, his hair almost completely gone. he lifted a hand to his cheek.

he didn't know how he was even still alive.

maybe it was for his sister. to truly save her and free her from the hell she'd been trapped in.

maybe it was for you. the one who'd loved him through everything. the person he always knew he could count on. he smiled, thinking of you.

he turned a corner, his shared home with you now in his line of sight. should he even bother coming home? what was there, other than you, that was important to him at all? he thought for a moment. there was nothing.

but then he thought of you. he knew you were worried. you had to be. you worried whenever he went out to the grocery store. he thought about you crying because of his disappearance. he thought about you thinking that he was dead.

he tried to take a breath, and then realized he couldn't.

he looked over to another road. he could turn away now, leaving you without answers forever. he looked back at your home, the one you'd bought together. the one you shared memories in together. he could continue his path and face you, knowing you wouldn't love him anymore.

both were painful options, but he knew he had to see you. he couldn't leave you worried about him for the rest of your life. he knew you were still holding onto hope that he was alive. you always did. whenever some's pet went missing in your neighborhood you always held faith that it would return. he knew you were feeling that way about him.

he was slower now. he didn't walk like a stereotypical zombie that came out of a horror movie. his back still stood up straight. he still had his spine, at least. he hesitated a few times, going back to deliberate his options again and again, too afraid to face you, fearful of what you would think of him.

he passed a dumpster, a large, oversized hoodie sticking out of it. it smelt horrible, but he put it on, desperately trying to cover himself up from the prying eyes of the world. it was simple, a plain, black sweatshirt. no designs, nothing. it wasn't special, and he wasn't either.

after he left, you would surely find someone else. you would move on and forget that you ever dated him in the first place. a pang struck his heart. he didn't want you to leave him. 

he walked up the steps, finally standing at the front door. he looked around. the shutters on the windows, he remembered, you picked out. he shut his eyes. he could turn back now and you would never know he was even there.

he couldn't do that, though. not to you.

he reached into his pocket, bony fingers searching for his keys. he pulled them out, looking down at them. he found the key to the door. it had a cat on it. you picked it out. it's bright, green eyes, stared back at him, and he thought of you.

he thought of all the times you'd been there for him. every time he shed a tear, you were there. every time he woke up from a nightmare, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe, you were there. you always were.

he put the key in the lot, wiggling it as he turned it so it would work. it didn't sometimes. you'd laugh whenever it failed on him. his hands were shaky as he unlocked the door and it swung open. you were nowhere to be seen, but he was only in the foyer. you weren't going to be standing right in front of the door waiting for his return forever.

he took a step inside. would you even recognize him at all? would you panic at the sight of a walking corpse in your home? the home you once shared with the man you called the love of your life? 'maybe.' he thought. his features were only slightly distorted from the decomposition. he wondered how long it had been since the scooping. he didn't want to think about it, anymore. he shook the thought out of his head, taking another few steps inside.

he turned, looking down the hallway. the hallway led to your shared bedroom and a bathroom, as well as a spare room you'd been using for storage. there were a few things you could never bring yourself to get rid of, and he loved that about you.

sometimes you would joke about that spare room being a child's. a child that you would have with michael. he'd brush away the idea. having a family was never on his mind, too afraid of turning into a spitting image of his father. after all, he already looked almost exactly like him physically. he couldn't become more similar to him than he already was.

michael's search got more frantic, suddenly desperate to see you as his pace quickened. he turned a corner to the living room. then he saw you.

sitting on the couch, watching 'the immortal and the restless'.

his chest suddenly felt heavy. you hated that show, but you watched it so intently, your face glued onto the screen. he could only see the back of your head and he was almost afraid to step into your field of view. you wouldn't love him anymore. he knew it.

you must not have noticed the door open. you were relaxed into the couch. he noticed his favorite drink sitting next to yours on the coffee table. it was untouched, unopened.

you'd been saving it for him, in hopes that he would come home.

he couldn't handle it anymore, and he walked a few paces forwards, body language non threatening. you didn't notice him at first, but you clearly tensed when you did. "who are you?" you asked, your voice shaky as you did so. you leaned against the arm of the couch, as far away from michael as you could be.

he didn't realize he had the hood up on the sweatshirt. he pulled it down, and your face softened. "mikey?" you asked, standing up and taking a few steps towards him.

he felt a twinge in his heart at the nickname. he'd hated it growing up, his father frequently using during his childhood. then he met you, who used it. and he was comfortable hearing it, only if it came from your lips.

he didn't even look up at you. he didn't want you to see him like this. you took another step forward, almost falling into his arms, "oh, mikey.." you muttered into the sweatshirt, your voice muffled but just loud enough to where he could hear you. he was weak, his muscles withering away. "i was so worried about you.." you spoke, more to yourself than to him.

his arms hung at his sides, too shocked to move. he thought you wouldn't love him anymore, but here you were, holding him as if nothing had changed. "you.. you still love me?" he croaked out. he hadn't spoken since the scooping.

"of course i do. i could never stop loving you." you said, pulling away from the hug. he finally made eye contact with you, and you smiled. you lifted a hand to his cheek. your touch was so warm. he hadn't realized how cold he'd been feeling until he felt your hand on his skin.

"what happened to you..?" you asked, letting yourself examine all of his features. michael still looked like him, the same man you woke up to see every day, albeit his skin was more gray now than before. his eyes were sunken in and his cheekbones hollowed out. you were worried about him standing, worried that his bones would give out.

he didn't answer, and you didn't care. he could talk about it when he was ready, the only thing that truly mattered was that he was back at home with you, and safe. you grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch. he sat down, and you followed.

he was truly so tiny. his height still remained the same, but he was noticeably smaller. you wanted to hug him so much tighter, but you didn't want to hurt him. "i missed you." you mumbled. it was so quiet you swore you'd be able to hear a pin drop.

you couldn't help but notice that the only breathing you were hearing was yours.

was michael.. dead? it seemed impossible, but knowing what he worked with, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. you didn't care. he was here, alive, in some way, and sitting right next to you.

you laid down on the couch, your arms extended out to him. he had a sad expression on his face. he noticed your gesture and moved closer to you, laying his head down on your chest.

he could hear how fast your heart was beating. did you really miss him that much? he noticed the huge smile on your face as soon as you realized it was him. he didn't think he had this much of an affect on you.

the episode of 'the immortal and the restless' continued on, but he couldn't even focus on it. he couldn't believe he was here with you again, curled up in your arms. he knew you could sense whenever something was bothering him, and the way you reacted was exactly what he needed.

"you still love me?" he asked again, his voice splitting the silence.

"i will love you. always and forever."

he looked up at you, and you looked down at him, your head angled in a way that looked incredibly uncomfortable but it didn't seem like you minded at all, your brain too focused on the man you loved.

"no matter what, okay? nothing is separating the two of us." you chuckled, running a hand through his hair. when you pulled your hand away, a few strands were stuck in between your fingers.

he relaxed. he loved whenever you played with his hair.

"always and forever?"

"always and forever."

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Midge/Lenny - "Honey, I'm home!"

Fashionable People (Very Blue Rooms)

"Hey!" Lenny calls as he steps into the apartment. "So this meeting went surprisingly well! They were talking about a political talk show, which I wasn't expecting but it's better than the alternative..."

He frowns as he wanders into the empty kitchen. The lights are on, and dinner is keeping warm in the oven, but Midge isn't there. Ethan and Esther are with Joel. Kitty has a slumber party at a friend's house tonight.

"Midge?" he calls, but gets no response and his alarm bells go off. His first instinct is the check the bedroom to see if she laid down, but the TV is on, and when he rushes over, he finds her crumpled onto the floor.

"Midge."

He's on his knees, pulling her into his arms quickly and checking for breathing and heartbeat. They're both a little slow.

"Shit. Midge?"

He shakes her harder than he probably should, but it doesn't do any good. Real panic starts to set in, then.

"Fuck. Fuck."

He grabs for the phone.

*****

“Lenny.” 

He doesn’t look up right away. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here next to Midge’s hospital bed, but he knows it’s been a while. An hour, maybe two. 

“Lenny?” 

He finally looks up, seeing Doctor Benjamin standing above him, looking worried. “Yeah.” He gets to his feet. Even with Lenny’s considerable height, Benjamin Ettenberg still has him beat. Neither men look thrilled to be where they are. 

Benjamin sighs. “So, the pills she was taking were heavy duty painkillers used for a lot more than the mild aches she generally experiences. We’re talking serious business shit, here.” 

Lenny rubs his eyes. “Fuck.” 

“Do you know where she got them?” 

“Her doctor retired,” Lenny explains. “The new guy must have switched the prescription. Doctor Uh…Doctor Greenblatt, I think. She said she was feeling funny after taking them, but she thought she was just tired.”  

“I can look into it,” Benjamin promises. 

“Good cuz I’m gonna kill that fucker,” Lenny grouses. 

“Suing him will hurt more,” Benjamin reminds him. “This is serious negligence.” 

“What about Midge?” Lenny asks. 

“She should wake up in the next few hours,” Benjamin assures him. “She didn’t take enough to cause permanent damage, but with the previous health issues, she’ll be slower to come back.” 

“But she’s waking up.” 

“Yeah, she’ll be talking your ear off again in no time.” 

“She had better.” 

***** 

The world swims back into focus slowly, and Midge struggles to make sense of where she is. The scratchy hospital gown gives it away and she does her best to sit up, looking around, finding Lenny asleep in the chair next to her bed.

“Wha…?” 

“Hey, she’s awake.” 

Midge looks up and blinks at Benjamin. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he says quietly, stepping over to check her vitals and look at her chart. “Yep. As suspected, you’re on track for a full recovery.” 

“From what?” Midge asks. 

Benjamin takes a seat and pulls a pill bottle from his lab coat. “Your doctor leveled up your pain meds too much.” 

“God, is that why I was feeling so strange?” she asks, looking at the label. “I thought they were the same.” 

“Not by a long shot,” Benjamin tells her. “I thought I was gonna have to get Lenny a vomit bucket.” 

“Yeah, he’s got a sensitive constitution when it comes to me and hospitals,” Midge says sheepishly. “Thanks for looking after me.” 

“I get paid very well to do so,” Benjamin grins. “And despite our previous relationship, I don’t want you to literally die.” 

Midge grins back. “I hear my mother set you up with someone nice.” 

“Oh, no, Ruth is not nice,” Benjamin chuckles. “Not at all But she is perfect for me.” 

“Good.” 

“I cannot believe you want to talk about my dating life when you just experienced an accidental overdose.” 

“Once Lenny wakes up, it’s all we’re gonna be talking about,” Midge sighs, rubbing her eyes. “I put that man through so much, I cannot believe he’s still sane. And here.” 

“Love’s funny that way,” Benjamin shrugs. “I’m gonna recommend you stay for another few hours, just to get some more hydration through the IV, and I’m going to prescribe you the correct pain relief meds so this doesn’t happen again. I suggest you get a new doctor.” 

“And sue the ass off the old one.” 

“Before Lenny murders him.” 

“He doesn’t need another arrest, he’ll keep it together.” 

[erensrag]

the one -

armin x yn (wc: 12720)

warnings: nsfw/smut, yandere armin, obsession, mentions of stalking, manipulation, toxic relationship, armin being a creep in love basically. summary makes it seem like he kidnaps reader lmao he doesn’t

summary: having seen enough of you managing without him, armin decides to finally take matters into his own hands and make you his.

armin doesn't understand.

he thought he planned everything out perfectly. he gave you your space, hasn’t given anyone the slightest suggestion of his feelings for you—at least the people you both know. he wanted you to come to him willingly, no persuasion or sweet talks.

he did everything perfectly. he's the perfect student, always has been. has gotten straight a's since the moment he entered his first grade, received a full scholarship to some college he could care less about instead of his dream one because that's the one you chose, even helped you with your college admission letters. he's well off, could've—could take care of you your entire life. he's loved by everyone on campus and even in high school, he was the apple of everyone's eye.

you knew how perfect he was back then and how he's thriving right now so how the hell...of all people why him? he clenches the beer can in his hand, watching you stumble up the stairs with none other than his best friend.

this isn't like the other boys you've dated. he can't just threaten or throw cash at him until he realizes you'll always belong to armin and leave you alone. eren doesn't listen to anyone and even if he did try any threats, it'd just ruin the nice guy reputation he’d had spent years building up.

he throws the can onto the sofa, immediately trailing after you two before he can stop himself. he thought spending the summer in everyone’s home town would've just brought them closer—specifically brought you and him closer, that was the plan after all. not you and eren. you two have barely spoken three words to each other your entire lives.

it doesn't make sense.

he thought he knew everything about you. he had organized every single detail regarding you in sections and tucked the pictures in that little box that's been tucked under his dorm bed for years. maybe he gave too much space? college was undoubtedly stressful, he must've become too busy with his studies to look over you. to make sure you made the right decisions and weren't tainted by the hands of everyone around you.

he had screwed up.

but he intends to make it right. to put you back on the right track, the one you're supposed to be on. the one that leads you straight to him.

he found the two of you in some random bedroom, disgust immediately taking over him at the sight. is this who you were now? a few months of not talking to one another and you were already ruining your life by letting yourself get fucked by eren of all people in a bedroom you didn't even know the owner of?

his nails dig into his palms as he watches through the creek in the door, you guys didn't even bother to close it all the way. as if you wanted an audience. eren was already slamming into you, like you were nothing more than a toy dying to be used and defiled. like a whore. is that who you are now y/n? a whore? the more he stares, the more it seems like it. you’re on your stomach, hands clenching the sheets and head thrown back in pleasure.

the pace of his thrusts has you letting out high pitched moans, a bit of saliva sliding down your chin. "e—eren." you cry out and armin would've walked in there and punched the daylights out of his own best friend because no one deserves to hear you calling their name out like that except for him. it's unfair. so unfair he could fucking die out of fury right now. but he didn't. he stood there, frozen because hitting his best friend—anyone is out of character for him.

it would've raised eyebrows and questions he doesn't want to answer. but still...the way eren snaps his cock in you sloppily, the slap of skin against skin filling the room makes him bite down on his tongue to the point of blood. the anger is consuming him and he's not sure he can watch this torture any longer.

"y—you're—n—ngh so big, eren." you moan like a bitch in heat, tongue almost lolling out as eren grabs your hair, pulling your head back even more so he can plant a disgusting kiss on your lips.

at least you're still dressed, outfit clinging to your sweaty body. at least he doesn't get to see anything too valuable. at least armin still has that for himself. it's when eren grips your clothed breast that he decides enough is enough, he's ready to open the door and storm in the room but a hand is quickly grabbing his forearm.

he freezes, has someone been watching him? did they see anything? fuck, are they going to think he's some huge pervert? judging by his actions tonight, maybe he is. he slowly turns around, closing the door in front of him before the person can ask any questions.

it's historia. her pupils are dilated as she leans onto armin's arm. the booming sound of the music from downstairs drowns out whatever she's slurring out right now but armin pretty's sure he has a gist of it. "let's get you home." he sighs, placing his hand on her shoulder.

she shakes her head, "we—gotta...find y/n." she says a bit louder, clenching her eyes shut before opening them again. "my head hurts." she whines.

"that's what happens when you decide to act like a damn delinquent." he mutters bitterly more to himself, it's not like she'll remember any of this tomorrow. "now let's go home before mom kills us."

"but—y/n. we came with her, we can't just...just..." she clenches the front of his shirt before letting out a choked gag.

armin huffs, almost throwing her off before she ruins his clothes but even as annoying as she is, leaving his sister in a place like this isn't such a good idea. especially for his reputation. he would take y/n with him as well but it seems she's too preoccupied. too tainted to think straight.

but like he said, he'll make sure to fix that. he has two months to get everything back to the way they were. and maybe even a little better.

he's waited years for your friendship with him to blossom into something more but it seems nothing will happen without him egging a few things on first.

he spends the entire night tossing and turning, nightmares of the party before repeating in his head over and over again.

if it was anything else, he thinks he would've been able to let it go after taking a few precautions. but this isn't anything else. this is big and it only spirals the blotchy jealously he's tried hard to keep under wraps over the years, threatening to invade his thoughts with vile images.

he's awake long enough to hear the front door opening at three in the morning. immediately getting up and walking towards his slightly open door, knowing it's you. historia and his mother are sound asleep and besides his father who's rarely home due to work, you're the only one left with a key.

he made sure to pressure historia into getting you one as soon as possible the second he found out you were spending the summer with them. groaning fills the silence of the house followed by you stumbling up the stairs. he expects to hear you go into the guest room you're staying in or historia's bedroom but the bathroom door opens instead.

a few minutes passes before he hears you groaning again, this time louder and his feet inch towards the hallway, wanting nothing more than to go to you. but then that angry feeling rises again and an acidic taste resides on his tongue. he doesn't want to be angry at you, he's never been angry at you. he should be furious with eren only. the way he took advantage of your kindness and obliviousness isn't right. if you were sober, you never would've gone for him.

he sighs heavily, walking towards the bathroom door. you're slouched over the toilet, gagging into it and he races over. the concern is etched on his face as his hand rests on your back, startling you. you turn your head, movements sluggish. "armin?"

he didn't even have the decency to walk you inside? make sure you got into bed properly? fucking asshole.

"you okay?" he asks. it's the most you two have spoken to each other all summer.

"y-yeah." you wipe your lips. "sleepy." you murmur.

he gets up, putting his arm around your waist as he helps you stand. "rinse your mouth." he mutters and you obey, going to the sink to put some water in your mouth and spitting it out. "let's get you to bed."

you two stumble out of the bathroom, he makes sure to keep his hands around your waist. his chest constricting with want as he gets to feel you, it's been ages since you two have touched each other. he eyes your bedroom door, that's where he originally wanted to take you but he can't help but think back to that party. at how eren got to experience everything he wasn't able to. then he sees the bruises on your neck, he grits his teeth so hard he's sure they're going to chip any second.

no. he deserves this little thing. it's not like he's going to do anything inappropriate, he's not like that jackass who decided he deserved to touch you like that. he just wants to be near you. it's been awhile, too long. and it's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

that's what he tells himself as he guides the both of you towards his own bedroom, slowly placing you on the bedsheets to which you immediately snuggle into. he eyes flicker towards the closet door, contemplating whether to take out a random t-shirt and place you in it but you'd just be waking up with questions he wouldn't be able to answer. the armin everyone knows can't even look at a girl without blushing, let alone undress her.

so he opts for just laying down besides you on the sheets, he can explain this if you wake up confused. that you just drunkly stumbled in his room and laid down next to him. he turns his head, captivated by every rise and fall of your chest. your eyelashes fluttering as you snuggle deeper into the pillow, letting out incoherent whimpers.

his fingers slowly trace your cheek, chest burning badly with want. all he wants to do is touch, touch, touch. you just look so beautiful, so serene. and he can't help brush a thumb over your bottom lip. the same lips that were moaning out eren's just a few hours ago. that dark feeling is back and he can't help but press his finger down on your lip harshly, you let out a tiny whine but keep your eyes closed, too sleepy to really comprehend what's going on.

what's so special about him? he doesn't get it. eren's a meathead. he isn't fit to take care of you, to cater to your every need and make sure you never have to want for anything. to be ready to do whatever is necessary to keep you happy, even if it means hurting those you don't realize are harming you.

he leans forward, lips ghosting over yours but never touching. no, he wants you to be awake and alert for when your lips finally meet. so you can see no one else in this world but him deserves you. but fuck, he wants to kiss you. your lips look so soft, so addicting, like they were made for him. and they were. every inch of your body was created for him just like his was for you.

he needs to make this right, make you see what was standing in front of you all long. he could punch himself for not realizing he needed to act on this sooner.

but he will now. he'll make sure to fix everything.

armin wakes up before you, not wanting to be in the room when you finally snapped out of your slumber. fortunately, you don't stay asleep too long, waking up only thirty minutes after.

he's already made breakfast by then, blueberry pancakes just the way you like them. you step into the kitchen and he almost drops the glass of orange juice he's holding. you're dressed in his oversized hoodie with some shorts, it practically engulfs your frame as you awkwardly sit on a stool.

you're wearing his clothes.

his clothes are touching your skin right now. making contact with your chest, stomach and breasts. he gulps, placing the glass down. "m-morning."

"morning..." you trail off, slowly drumming your fingers on the counter. "pancakes?"

he quickly pushes a plate towards you, he shamelessly designed it like it held a five course meal instead of simple pancakes but you seem to appreciate it as you gasp. "this looks amazing."

"did you sleep well?" he deliberately asks that question just to see you squirm.

you tense up, picking up the fork as you jab the pancakes. "yeah...uh sorry i was in your room and...bed. must've stumbled in there last night."

"it's fine." he smiles. "i slept on the couch, no worries." the lie flows out as if he didn't spend the last few hours cuddling you like you were going to run away any second.

"oh."

"what?"

"nothing." you shake your head, chewing.

"no really, what?" he presses, leaning on the counter towards you.

"well...i mean i wouldn't have a trouble if you slept in the same bed, it's not like we haven't done it before."

"that was a long time ago." he says but the fact you remembered fills him up with glee. so your mind hasn't been completely infiltrated with his so called best friend, you still think of armin.

"yeah but we were really close before...you know. i'm sure—"

"before what?" he asks, forcing the confusion to appear on his face even though he knows exactly what you're talking about.

you fidget, "before you started to distance yourself." you sigh, perhaps growing a bit agitated under his intense gaze.

"hmm." he hums. "well, studies and all that, you know how it is. but i'm sure you found plenty of people to fill in that hole i left behind."

you raise an eyebrow, "well...i wouldn't—"

"did you miss me, though y/n?" he places his hand under his chin, staring at you. "you walked into my room like it was second nature, snuggled right into my bed like it was home. it was pretty cute."

you nibble on your bottom lip, "i'm sorry about that. gosh, that's so embarrassing."

"answer the question." he urges, tone being a little bit more stern then he intended.

your eyes widen for a moment, "yeah—uh i missed you. didn't you miss me?" you ask shyly.

a far contrast from the moans that were leaving your lips last night. "of course i missed you." he nods. "you, me and historia were such a tight nip group back then. but then college came around and things changed. we changed, didn't we?"

"yeah, i guess."

"you never used to go to parties before and now look at you, stumbling in at three am like some drunkard. makes me wonder what else you've been up to." he continues nonchalantly, plucking a berry into his mouth.

you lick your lips, hands clenching around the fork. a few seconds pass by before you let out a laugh meant to lighten the mood, "i almost forgot how intense you can be, geez lighten up armin. your stare is practically boring into me." you play with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to hide your discomfort.

discomfort. he doesn't want you to feel that around him. he'll have to change that, make you see his behavior is only intended to help you. protect you from the evils in the world because you're simply too native to notice them. "and i didn't even wanna go to that party in the first place. i suggested star gazing but historia called it dumb."

"of course she did, her idea of a good time is getting so drunk she could faint." he rolls his eyes. "anyways. speaking of change, did you talk to eren last night?"

you almost choke on the pancake, quickly putting the fork down so you can grab the glass of water and gulp it down. "n-no! why would i speak to eren? i barely know the guy."

you've always been a bad liar—always overexaggerating everything.

"just wondering. i haven't been able to get a hold of him. mikasa wants to speak to him."

"mikasa? why?" that certainly piques your curiosity.

"well, they are best friends and he left campus without telling her where he was going apparently. she's at her hometown with her parents and is worried sick."

"can’t you be the messenger or something?”

he clicks his tongue, walking over and sitting next to you. "i'm not sure this message can be passed down through me." he smiles, making sure your thighs are touching.

"why not?" you ask timidly, as if afraid for his answer.

"well, i'm sure you know about how...special their relationship is. right before we left for break, eren told me he was planning on confessing his feelings for her when we got back and then she just texted me saying—"

"what?" your lips form into a frown, doe eyes filled with confusion. it's so cute. so naive and cute. "eren likes her?"

"of course he likes her silly, everyone knows those two are head over heels for each other. practically in a relationship already. it'll be so cute when we get back to campus and see them finally get together, don't you think so? their bond is truly something remarkable."

you stay silent, eyes staring down at your pancakes. do you actually like him? armin refrains from a scoff, how could you be so dumb to fall for someone like eren? "what's wrong? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"f-fine."

he nods, hand going to touch the syrup in the corner of your lips. you look surprised for a second as his tongue darts out to lick his finger. "we'll be spending two whole months in this house together." he changes the subject, having accomplished what he wanted to do. he doubts the eren situation is over yet but he has all the time to permanently destroy it. and he will.

"don't we think we should rekindle the friendship? it's gonna be awkward if we continue ignoring each other."

"you're the one who ignored me." you murmur.

"i wanna fix that, i'm sorry y/n. i'm sure we can go back to where we left off, hmm?"  he lean down so your faces are closer together, your eyes widening at that the movement. "would you like that?"

it looks like you're nodding before you can even register what he's saying. you've always been like that. so compliant. it used to be adorable but now all he can think about is how eren used that submissiveness and naivety to sink his claws into you. no one can be trusted around you. only armin.

"y—yeah." you smile, sullen mood from the news he just delivered temporarily gone. "i've missed you a lot."

"i've missed you too."

"what's this?" you ask as you walk into the living room a few hours later, granola bar in hand. still wearing his hoodie.

"a fort?"

"i can see it's a fort, but why?" you walk over to the sofa, plopping down on it.

"we used to make these all the time in high school, and since we're going to be friends again. don't you think—"

"so a fort?" you hum. "you usually hated when we made these, always calling it childish."

"well..." he steps towards the coffee table, picking up the miniature planetarium he stashed in his closet a few years ago. "you said you wanted to go stargazing so—"

"so you brought the stars to me?" your tone isn't mocking but you do chuckle a bit. "i don't know if that's sweet or just—"

"i think it's sweet." he grins, walking towards you. "so what do you think?" he gestures towards the fort. he didn't spent the last fifteen minutes moving furniture and gathering almost all pillows, sheets and cushions in the house for this for you to reject his offer. he needs to see you with that look in your eyes, looking at the stars with admiration. he misses it. the last sight in his mind is of you at that party, eyes gleamed over with lust and that hammered look. it plays over and over again and he's sick of it.

"sure." you beam, not waiting for him to make the first move as you crawl into the fort. the sanctuary he made for just the two of you.

he goes in after you, thighs touching yours as you sit next to each other. he made the insides small on purpose, just so he could feel you. he turns the projector on and you both watch as the speckles of light start to form on the sheets.

"whoa." you mutter to yourself, entrapped by the glowing of the luminescent blues and purples. "you really did all this for me?" you ask, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"wouldn't be the first time i went all out for you." he moves closer to you, breathing fanning on your face. "i'd do anything for you y/n, i thought you knew that already."

you're his. he should do whatever it takes to care of what's his.

you stare at him, a definite picture of of purity with those big mesmerizing eyes. your mouth gapes open trying to come up with a response but nothing comes out. armin watches a bead of sweat trail down your forehead, it's almost scorching in here. he knows it would've happen in this summer heat so he slowly picks up the mini electric. "hot?"

"w-what about you?" you ask, visibly swallowing a lump in your throat.

he hesitates. c'mon armin. just be a man. so he wraps his hand around your waist and you recoil in surprise as he brings you into his lap so the fan is on both of your bodies. you place your hand on his thighs, squirming to get into a comfortable position. "a-armin..." you laugh, it's awkward. you're trying to ease the tension but he doesn't want that, he just wants to be near you,  consequences be damned.

he's usually smarter than this. smarter than acting before he thinks but that night won’t stop haunting him so he smiles as he leans his chin on your shoulder. "what? am i making you uncomfortable?"

"w—well no but...it's just very sudden. you were acting as if i didn't exist just a few days ago and you're now—"

"i just wanted to touch you y/n. it's been years without your touch." he whispers, resisting the urge to nibble on your earlobe. "didn't you miss me? miss my touches?" he asks innocently, wrapping both his hands around your waist to pull you closer. your back is flushed against his chest, ass directly on his crotch and it takes a lot of will power not to get a hard on.

"i did." you nod eagerly. "of course i did."

"so let me treat you for all those times i missed."

"okay." you say, seemingly without thinking.

"wanna get some barbecue tomorrow ?"

"i have to meet my parents. y'know, getting yelled at for my major. the usual."

he frowns. "they're still mad about that? you should talk to them."

"you know they never listen to me." you squirm again on his lap but abruptly stops as you realize where exactly you're sitting. "it's fine, i barely talk to them anyways. i'm sure they'll finally get over it once i graduate."

he should comfort you, say something along the lines of they'll come around or don't worry but instead what comes out is none of those. "you don't need them." he rustles against you. "i'll always support you y/n. like i always have"

even if you weren't aware, he was mostly always in the shadows and making sure you got everything you wanted. "well, they are my parents."

"they've never cared enough to listen to you, to see you." his tone changes, voice low now as more sweat beads down his forehead. "none of them have, have they?"

"i—i...i'm sure—"

"historia doesn't see you? does she? she says she's your best friend but she treats you like a lackey y/n. isn't that infuriating?"

you scoff, "that's not true." you go to get off his lap but he tightens his hold on you. he just needs to say this.

"is that why she rejected your offer of stargazing? why she always made fun of your outfit choices back in high school? she was always jealous of you, don't you see that? you're better than that, better than all of them." every single one.

he wishes he could see your face but he settles for this, just for this simple touch. "i don't know what you want me to say to that, armin." you breath out.

"i want you to see your worth, y/n. you deserve better than all of this. don't you think so? you deserve the world." he can't help himself as he leans into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

you're not creeped out, or at least you're not attempting to get up anymore. "and what, you can give me that? is that what you're saying?"

he wasn't meant to have this type of conversation right now, it was just supposed to be a nice evening of laying down in this fort. but he saw an opportunity and why not take it?

"you know i can." he answers. "you know i'd do anything for you."

you turn your head slightly, looking at him. "really?" you question. "anything?" you sound intrigued and he swears you're leaning in, it's not his imagination right? you really are.

but before your lips can even brush against each other, historia's screeching voice booms in the living room. "y/n! it's time to get ready."

you quickly get off, almost throwing yourself to the ground as you scoff awkwardly. as if being knocked out of a trance. you don't even spare armin a glance as you crawl out.

get ready for what?

"another party?" armin leans on the doorway frame, watching his sister apply her makeup. "you two went to one just last night—and halloween themed? it's the middle of summer."

"that's what makes it fun!" she smiles, putting the blush down and standing up. she decided to go as a cat. or at least, he thinks it's a cat. drawn on whiskers with an ear headset, a damn tail, short dress with long fishnets.

she looks like a whore. she's been acting like a whore ever since summer started and he realizes maybe that's why you’re acting so different. you live near each other in the dorms and historia must be rubbing off of you.

he tries and keeps his outrage down as historia gets up, walking towards the door. "we'll be back at twelve...hopefully."

"no, you'll be back at twelve." he grits his teeth. "you'll get drunk like an idiot dear sister, and leave y/n all alone at some strangers house. again."

she blushes, offended at the assumption. "you're the one who brought me home last night, why are you blaming it on—"

"would mother appreciate this? you dressed up like a skank and going to a party two nights in a row?"

he shouldn't be saying this. it's not in his character and it's obvious historia is completely staggered at his behavior. "she's barely home and i doubt she cares what i do at night. unlike you, i haven't made it my life to be the perfect—"

"but i care." he's walking towards her before he can stop himself. "i care about the way you're treating y/n. dragging her to parties, getting her drunk so assholes can take advantage then leaving her high and dry. you're a bad influence, dear sister and it's truly annoying seeing you trying to turn her into some gross replica of you. she's not like that, she's not tainted like you. she's pure and i won't let—"

"you're hurting me jackass!" she whimpers and it's only then armin realizes he's seized her wrist, digging his nails into the skin.

he quickly lets go, clearing his throat. "sorry, just stressed from school."

the annoyance is clear in her eyes along with the rage but armin notices something else...a hint of fear? he scared her? fucking great. watch as she goes and rants to mother about her asshole of an older brother resulting in talks he definitely doesn't want to have.

"if you're so worried about y/n, come to the party like you did last night. keep an eye on your precious doll." she scoffs, shoving him away so she can step out the door, rubbing at her wrist.

that's not a total bad idea. it's a perfect way to get closer to you without seeming like a total creep plus he can keep eren and his greedy claws away. he quickly walks towards your door, knocking once before you're opening. his mouth nearly gapes open at the sight of you, how is it always possible for him to be blown away by your beauty every time he sees you? you're dressed in a short white dress, wearing a halo headset with wings.

an angel? fitting. very very fitting.

"you like it?" you grab the ends of the dress, showing it off. he notices you try very hard to not look at him in the eyes. "couldn't decide between a bride or angel. historia wanted me to go as a sexy nurse but i didn't really have—"

"gorgeous. you look gorgeous." it flows out of his tongue so smoothly it has the both of you tensing up.

"really?" you quirk an eyebrow, clearing your throat and finally looking at him. it feels so damn awkward—at least to you but you try to act normal nonetheless. "i expected a swarm of insults, you hate things like that."

"do i think having a halloween themed party in the middle of summer is completely and utterly idiotic? yes. but it doesn't deter from your blinding beauty."

a shy smile gathers on your face, "uh...thanks."

"ready to go? i'm driving.”

your eyes widen, "you? going to a party twice in a row? going to a party at all? are you okay?" your hand is quickly going to touch his forehead before he can comprehend what's going on. his cheeks immediately blaze red, taking a quick step back.

you take your hand away, letting out an uneasy laugh. "it's just a tough armin, not like i was going to stab you or something."

"i know—"

"you say you want our friendship back but you act like this...it's weird." you huff. "you've been acting weird ever since we left for college, no—you've been acting like an ass and i've let it go but this summer means a lot to me. i'm finally having fun for once in my life and i don't need you to come in and confusing me and—and what the hell was that fort—"

"i was just surprised!" he cuts off, tone more urgent than he wants it to be. "i do want us to be friends again!" he deliberately ignores the fort question.

he just wasn't prepared for the feeling of your skin against his in that moment. it’s usually him initiating the touches, not the other way around. he swallows the lump in his throat, quickly taking your hand in his. "i didn't mean to insult you. of course i want your touch, who wouldn't want it? you're—" he stops talking. stop it. stop it. he's babbling. "let's just go."

you nod, smiling again. at least you're not creeped out by his behavior.

the party is boring. it's only been an hour and he's bored out of his damn mind. other than drunk girls coming up to him and asking him what's he's supposed to be even though it's pretty freaking obvious he's not wearing a costume—the random loud shouting as someone starts taking shots is enough to drive him out of his mind.

but at least you're here.

he's made sure to keep an eye on you the second you guys got here. you've mostly been outside on the patio, drinking punch as you dance with some friends. he occasionally touches his lips, thinking of how close they were to yours in that fort. the way you looked at him was filled with...well you definitely didn't look at eren like that last night. speaking of the devil— "eren." he smiles tightly as his friend sits next to him on the sofa. "vampire?" he asks, eyeing his costume.

"is that alcohol?" he looks at the cup in armin's hand. "i need to get drunk immediately."

"it's water."

"water. of course it's water." he chuckles. "what else do i expect from mr goody two shoes?"

armin rolls his eyes, "why are you so desperate to find a way to act like even more of an idiot?" he mutters as if there aren't piles of cups around them, not to mention the cases of beer he's sure are in the fridge.

"nothing." he groans, leaning against the couch. "it's a party. getting drunk is what you're supposed to do."

"hmmm." he hums. "just thought it had to do with something else."

"like what?"

"well...i saw you and y/n the other night, getting it on."

"please never say getting it on ever again." he grins, sitting back up.

he's grinning...as if he didn't just commit a great sin against armin. didn't put his hands on armin's girl, didn't...he grits his teeth. how can he act so careless? as if he had any right to do what he did last night?

"do you like her?"

eren arches an eyebrow, looking at him. "what's it to you?"

"you don't do relationships. you hump and dump and y/n and i are very close. i don't want her becoming one of your victims."

"that's none of your business." he scoffs.

"just answer the question." his eyes bore into the others, clenching the cup in his hand to the point the liquid is overflowing onto his lap but he could care less. "cause if so, that's really pathetic. she always expresses how much of a idiot you are, it's funny really. how she had to be drunk to finally sleep with you."

"she wasn't drunk." he says through gritted teeth. "we were both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to—"

"why are you even doing this with her? she doesn't like you."

"again. it's none of your business." eren deadpans. "what's wrong with you tonight? we're both—"

"you're right." armin sighs, letting out an exaggerated laugh like he's just realized how crazy he sounds. even though he knows he’s acting perfectly sane right now, who wouldn’t be mad if they discovered what armin did? "i'm being weird, i'm just really protective of y/n. she's like family to me, you know that."

eren bites his lip, still a bit tense but nods nonetheless. "i'm not doing anything...like that with her. i genuinely wanna see where things go."

oh.

he's not sure which answer would've been better but he shakes his head okay, licking his now dry lips. "wanna get drunk on the roof? just like we used to?"

"you mean i got drunk and you sat there, silently judging me." eren corrects, anxious atmosphere from before now gone. armin likes that about him. quick to forget and never holds grudges. "but sure, i'll get the beer."

"i have to go pee, see you on the roof." he salutes before eren walks into the kitchen. his eyes instantly travel towards you, feet dragging themselves towards the patio before he can stop.

he just wants to ask if you're okay before he departs, see if you don't need any assistance. you're surrounded by people...but it's people he doesn't trust. he doesn't trust anyone with you. for good reasons. before he can walk further to tap your shoulder, he hears the conversation you're having with abby—he thinks that's her name.

she's been over for sleepovers many times. never really liked armin, that's for sure. he's heard her call him fake at least two times, saying someone can't actually be that nice or perfect. fucking abby. why is she talking to you? he should've gotten rid of her long ago, sabotaged the friendship as soon as he realized her bad influence.

"just ask him out!" he hears her squeal. "literally, what are you waiting for? he's so hot."

something tells him she's not fangirling like this  over armin.

"it's just...it's gonna be awkward!" you sigh, leaning against the wall. see? you can make good choices all by yourself, it's the people around your corrupting you. warping your thoughts until they're no longer your own. "he's armin's best friend and—"

"ugh! who cares about that boring walking encyclopedia!" abby groans heavily. "eren is probably the most popular guy on campus, have you seen those abs? ask him out or i will!" she laughs and armin knows she's not joking.

"he's not...boring." you mutter. "he's actually a pretty cool guy and—"

"you're probably the only one who thinks that." she rolls her eyes.

she interrupted you again. why is she always interrupting you? and why do you never speak up on it?

"ask eren out! c'mon, who cares about what armin thinks? his head is too busy being buried in books to notice anyone else regardless." she shakes your hand frantically.

you squirm, slowly nodding. "maybe. i might. eren doesn't seem to be totally av—"

"gotta go pee." she lets go of your hand. "drank way too much beer."

"want me to go with you?"

you're so nice. why are you so nice?"

"no, it's fine. it'll only take two seconds." she smiles, walking back inside. armin already made himself scarce the second she turned around, watching her walk up the stairs.

he should just go to the roof, talk to eren...but it seems eren isn't the only one standing in the way of his relationship with you. everyone wants to jeopardize it and he's had enough. so he's walking upstairs, not second guessing himself as he makes his way to the bathroom. he's been to this mansion many times before, his mother always having dinner with the owner of it to get into their good graces.

it doesn't take long before he finds it, the hallway is empty and he can hear abby inside. giggling nonsense to herself as she pees. she's drunk. probably wouldn't even remember his face.

he's not sure what he exactly plans to do but the second the door opens, he's immediately shoving her back inside. hands going to rest against her throat and mouth. fuck, he should've thought this through but all he can see right now is blind fury. people keep trying to tear you two apart and it's fucking with his brain. makes him so furious he just wants to punch everything in sight.

abby is screeching, trying to get out of his grip but she's a petite girl. barely weighing a hundred pounds. her back is to his chest and he prays she won't recognize him by the sound of his voice but even if she did...who cares? no one would believe her anyways. so he chuckles, not bothering to mask his voice.

"why do you keep getting in my way abby?" he sighs, applying a bit more pressure to her throat to which she whimpers at. "i don't want to hurt you so let this be a warning, hmm? stay away from y/n. never talk to her again, don't even think about her. that friendship is dead as of tonight? don't you think so?"

she only whimpers louder, trying to free herself so he applies even more pressure. she's now choking, little gasps trying to come out. "you're all trying to ruin her, it's so fucking annoying. just away, okay? it's simple enough, right? i'm going to let go now, don't turn around, don't scream unless you want me to break your windpipe? do you want that, abby?"

he's not sure he even knows how to break a damn windpipe, at least not yet but she doesn't know that. she nods frantically, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto armin's fingers. "great, now run away. all the way home." he lets her go and she doesn't need to be told twice as she bolts out of the room.

well, that was easy. he refrains from laughing as he leans on the doorway. she was all bark and no fight. always insulting armin but suddenly turning into a pathetic, sniveling bitch once he actually does something in retaliation.

he's feeling confident tonight, smiling ear to ear as he walks towards an open bedroom. the balcony door is wide open and he steps out onto it. climbing onto the roof doesn't take much effort, he's been doing it with eren for years.

speaking of eren.

another problem he needs to fix.

getting eren drunk isn't a hard thing to do. it only took a few minutes on the roof before he was slurring his speech. fortunately armin got them both back down on the balcony before the other could gravely injure himself.

injuring his best friend badly isn't on his to do list. at least physically. eren grips his forearm as armin lays him down on a random chair, the summer air causing eren's hair to flow around.

he understands why y/n is so smitten, he guesses. he's a pretty good looking guy. but so is armin. isn't he? he got rid of that haircut he would always get teased for, went to the gym a few nights and developed actual abs, don’t girls love abs...so why him? is it because he's popular? maybe cause he didn't wait eons to make a move like armin is currently doing.

whatever.

soon enough, he's going to be out of the equation.

eren's too inebriated to even realize where he is. this won't be hard, not one bit. "eren." armin sings. "i dare you to punch that railing." he leans against said railing, watching eren's sluggish movements as he stands up.

he's a jock, they love stupid dares. especially when they're drunk. eren scoffs in disbelief, offended armin even had to dare him. like he would've done it regardless. "easy."

"you sure you won't hurt yourself?" at least too badly.

he rolls his eyes and before armin can blink, his knuckles are slamming into the railing. he actually did it. why are jocks so easy? "that was so weak." armin challenges. "lame."

eren punches it again without saying anything, then again and again and armin has to hold him back and push him back on the chair before he's breaking his own bones. he examines his knuckles, bruised and bloodied. just like he wanted them. "h..how was that? cool right?" he slurs, smiling happily to himself.

admin nods, "very cool. now go to sleep." he hums lightly, patting the others head again until he's snuggling into the chair.

armin waits a few minutes until he's sure eren's finally sleeping. he walks towards the wall, letting out a few puffs to brace himself. he's doing all this for you. it'll be fine. he can do it.

he doesn't allow himself to think twice before he's slamming his forehead into the wall. fuck. fuck that hurts. but he can do it. it's for y/n. it's for their relationship. he can do it. so he does it again, and again until blood is dripping down his face.

fucking hell, it hurts.

he winces as he takes out his phone, wiping the blood on the wall with the sleeve of his sweater. he dials your number and you answer on the first ring. so perfect. so damn perfect.

"hey! where'd you disappear to?" your chirpy voice says on the other line.

"y/n." he makes sure to add emphasis on his voice, "c-can you come upstairs to the balcony? second bedroom on your right."

"uh...sure. are you okay?"

he decides to hang up at that, you're coming so there's no reason to continue talking. dots start to form in his eyes, he should've expected that. slamming your head repeatedly onto a wall will do that to someone.

you arrive not twenty seconds later, hurrying up into the room and gasping once you see the sight of him. "oh my gosh!" you rush over, placing a hand on his shoulder as your examine his face. "what ha—" it's then that you notice a sleeping eren in the seat next to you two.

and normally you wouldn't even jump to such a conclusion but with the way eren's knuckle is bruised...armin left little to be assumed. "don't tell me..." you trail off, eyes widening with disbelief as you look between the two of them.

"it's fine." armin breaths out, squinting his eyes shut at the pain. "he—he must've gotten too drunk and—it's fine."

"it's not fine!" you exclaim. "he...oh gosh why would he do that?"

he stands up from the seat he's been leaning against. "he was drunk, he wasn't thinking straight. it's my fault for mentioning mikasa knowing how—"

"mikasa?" your voice is so meek it has him finally looking at you. you look hurt, like a wounded little deer and although it pains him—he's only doing this to help you. you'll see it soon enough.

"yeah, all i did was mention how if he doesn't hurry and man up, she'll be swept away by some other guy on campus. you know how mikasa is, everyone loves her and i guess he got too mad. my fault for messing with true love." he chuckles, trying to lighten to the atmosphere. "sorry, that last part was cheesy but truly i'm—are you okay?"

your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth anxiously, slight tears forming in your eyes. "f-fine."

"are my injuries really making you cry? wow, didn't know you cared so much."

he tries not to think about the fact you're actually crying over eren. fucking eren.

you let out a forced laugh, "y-yeah." you sniff. "let's get you home. him too."

"is he usually so...violent?" you ask once you two are in the car, driving eren home. "and don't you need stitches for that or something?"

"not usually so violent. i only see him get so worked up when it's something he's truly passionate about."

"...right."

"and for the stitches part? i don't think so." at least he hopes not.

you nod.

"he's my best friend, i'm not sure he didn't mean to do it."

"he still hurt you though, that's messed up." you look at him, frown visible on your face. "your face is too adorable to get a fist punched into it."

"adorable?" he gasps, making a turn. "i'm hot. i'd like to think i stopped being adorable right when i entered college."

you laugh, "yeah. i guess."

"you guess what?" he asks, teasing smile on his face.

you smile, "you're...hot. there? did i boost your ego enough?"

"you have no idea, angel."

you're taken back by the pet-name but then realize it probably has to do with your outfit as you lean back onto the chair, staring at the passing houses.

eren's cozy in his bed a couple minutes later, snuggling into the pillows. "wonder what he's gonna feel when he wakes up knowing he beat the crap out of his best friend." you murmur, watching him on the bed.

"he did not beat the crap out of me!" armin scoffs, defensively. you giggle, "those bruises look pretty serious to me."

"doesn't mean he beat the crap out of me! it's just harmless bruises."

"sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

he walks closer to you, "he really didn't. unless you haven't noticed, i've grown from that scrawny boy a years back. i can handle a fight."

"yeah, i've noticed but eren goes to the gym like a million times a day—"

"but did eren take a year of marital arts?" he counters.

"the dude is built like a bodybuilder, i doubt he needs marital arts."

"that's where you're wrong, dear y/n. brains win over brawn anytime."

"except for tonight." you say, mischievous glint in your eyes.

he blows air out through his lips in disbelief and it's only when he sees you squint at the movement that he realizes how close they are together. so close that all he needs to do is lean in a few inches and your lips are touching. should he? you're watching him intensely, like you also want to know what his next move is.

do you want him to? he doesn't know. he planned much more experiences to get you to realize he's the one for you. he doesn't want your first kiss with him to be in eren's bedroom, of all places. but maybe a petty part of him does want that. a way of getting back at eren for what he did. for almost taking you away from armin.

your eyes flicker up, staring at him before flicking back down to his lips. it seems you want to make the first move as your lips brush against his and armin has to will himself to not fall down because his knees feel like they're going to give out any second. holy...is this really happening? he's been waiting for this his entire life. for you to finally...fuck, your fingers idly play with the buttons of his shirt before you're deepening the kiss.

he doesn't know why but he pulls away, "why should i kiss you y/n?" he asks, voice teasing yet stern at the same time.

your body heats up from embarrassment, "i—don't you like me? the fort—"

"do i like you?" he could almost scoff at the stupid question. "do you like me?"

you look up at him, stumbling for words to say to that. you look like he's just asked you to commit murder, biting harshly on your bottom lip before breathing out. "y-yes." your voice is so timid. "i've always liked you."

oh?

oh.

"and yet you were under eren like a whore the entire night." he's not sure why he allowed that to come out but he did. you inhale sharply, quickly shaking your head. "n—no. i—"

"what? it's not like you two tried to hide it. with the way you were giggling, the way you were moaning his name."

"you saw that?"

"of course i did. how can i kiss you when you've been with eren? moaning his name, crying for him to go deeper. do you you think you deserve my kiss, y/n?" he keeps his face impassive but he's filled with glee on the inside. at the humiliation on your face, the guilt.

"i-i'm sorry!" you stammer. "i s-slept with him and i...i admit i do like him but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way an—"

"so what? i'm just a second resort?"

"no!" you quickly deny. "i've liked you for so long, armin but you've made it clear you didn't want this friendship to continue. and after this morning...and tonight i don't want to let more years pass by before i confess my feelings a—i'm sorry for what i did with eren—i really...i'm sorry." your eyelashes have tears on them, fingers digging into his shirt as you try not to full on break down.

it's so adorable. you've always been a crybaby. "i probably don't deserve it but...please...please kiss me." your bottom lip trembles.

"well go on, kiss me." he wanted to tease more, have you grovel and beg but how can he? when you're looking so desperate for just one kiss.

have you really? always liked him? has he been so blind to not notice? fucking idiot. so you have always been on the right track, you've always known what you wanted. it's others who stopped you from achieving what you truly wanted. others and armin's stupid decisions.

he allows you to lean in, your nails almost digging into his cheeks as you kiss him. he instantly wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. you tilt your head to the side to get a better angle, and just as your tongues meet, armin pulls out again which elicits a whimper from you. "what..."

he grabs your jaw harshly, fingertips digging into the sides as he forces you to open your mouth. you look so pretty like this for him. dressed in white with a damn halo over your head as you look at him with that expression on your face. eyes just begging for you to be fucked. he doesn't think as he spits in your mouth and you whimper but don't protest.

he lets go and you swallow without a second thought, eyes focused on him. he can see why eren was so rough that night, you're just asking for it. "you let him fuck you, y/n. let him touch you."

should he even be acting so possessive right now? he should save that for later, when he's wired the fact you belong to him and only him into your brain. but that look in your eyes...it seems you already know. and his cock twitches at the possibility. do you? do you already know who you belong to y/n?

he drags you back until your back bumps against the dresser, his hand grabs your cunt which is practically aching for him already. "you let him touch this. this which belongs to me." he says into your ear and you whimper, clenching his shirt.

"s—sorry, p—lease please i'm so—nngh!" armin pinches your clit, mercilessly digging his fingers into the sensitive bud.

"who does this belong to?"

slick is already forming, coating his fingers. tears gather in your eyes, "y-you."

it's like fireworks went off inside of him, like he's finally seeing the light after years and years of pining. you do know. you know that every inch of you belongs to him, that you weren't made for anyone else. you were made for him. only him.

you shiver as his lips plant soft kisses on your chest, his hand gripping your hip. those hips he's always had too many fantasies about to count. he bites down, wanting everyone to see his marks on you. to see who you belong to. his teeth nip on your chest, jaw, chin, neck—anywhere he can leave marks.

he just wants to make you feel good, so good you forget about all your other past partners. he roughly turns you around so you can see yourself in the mirror behind you, your hands lean on the dresser, a dazed look already in your eyes. "you don't care that he's here?" armin whispers.

you shake your head, "i don't. please armin, fuck me."

you let out a wonderful moan as he pulls your dress up, ripping your panties and throwing them on the ground. he dives a finger inside of your needy cunt, "fuck!" you whimper.

"does it hurt?" he mocks. he doubts it does. not with the way you're trembling with pleasure under his touch. "i'm sorry angel but you don't deserve lube. not after everything you put me through me."

you nod helplessly, not even disagreeing with his words. "i'm so sorry." tears fall down your cheeks, eyes looking back into his through the mirror.

you're so weak for his touch and it's so gratifying. it's all he's ever wanted.  "you're so pretty, so tight just for me." he inserts another finger, curling them until your legs start shaking under your own weight. he holds you up, teeth grazing your neck and peppering kisses on your back.

it's so hot. everything feels so hot as the moans travel out of your lips, the sound of his fingers inside of you followed by your high pitched whining. it's almost too much. eren is right there and although he's not waking up anytime soon, it's just...fuck. it takes another finger before you're spilling onto his hand, guttural moan escaping your lips as you almost fall down.

he smiles in ecstasy, bringing his fingers to his lips and shamelessly licking every single white spot he finds on them. why would he be ashamed? he's been waiting for this his entire life. this is all he could ever ask for. "it tastes just like candy." he grins near your ear.

you shiver, "please...please fuck me."

he doesn't allow himself any more stalling, he's gonna have the rest of your lives together to taste and tease you. right now, all he wants to do is sink into that tight heat. so he does. and you both moan at the feeling. it's so hot, taking it in like armin's cock was always meant to be there. and it was, wasn't it?

"fuck..." he grips your hips, starting to thrust up. the arousal eating him up.

"so—big." you choke out as he starts to fill you up all the way. "feels so good..." you grip his cock so perfectly. everything you do is so perfect.

he starts to thrust harder once you've adjusted, not sparing any time as he pounds into you. the items on the dresser start to shake, moving around but none of you care enough. skin slaps against skin, his fingers clench your hips while yours dig into the dresser. he grins at the way your mouth falls open, tongue lolling around as you're helpless to way he's drilling into you.

you love this. it's so evident on your face. you love the fact it's armin behind you, the fact it's him inside of you right now. you didn't even ask for a condom...fuck how perfect would that be? you filled up with his babies. he could almost cum just at the thought.

but he doesn't. instead he increases his pace, fucking you eagerly. "wanted this for so long. fuck, you're so tight. feels so good. you're so perfect. so so perfect."

you let out a wet sob, whether at his actions or words—he doesn't know but he relishes the sound. "you like that y/n? being pounded into like you're nothing? while the guy you claim to like sleeps not even five feet away? it's pathetic." he chuckles.

and he's not usually so mean. he won't be during your other sexual activities. no he'll treat you like a princess, like the perfect angel you are. but right now, he's angry. and you need to know your place.

"suh—sorry." you cry out. "won't do it again. so sorry." you shake your head, grinding your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you throw your head back, mouth parted and begging for a kiss to which armin gives. your tongues meet, swirling around together as he licks into your perfect mouth. you two moan into each others mouths as armin continues his pace and—fuck he has to almost slap himself for being an idiot and not doing this sooner as he brings his hand around to cup your right breast, clenching it tightly and you moan deliciously at the contact.

he grips it as your tongue goes to lick his teeth, licking anything really. you're so needy. just as needy as him. your moans get even louder and he's thankful eren's parents are out on some business trip cause he's pretty sure the entire neighborhood can hear you right now. "so—ah! so good armin. you make me feel so good." you say, voice airy. "please fill me up, please i want your cum."

he's pretty sure those exact words are the reason for the orgasm that happens not two seconds later. he grips your waist tightly, cock deep inside as he empties everything in you. you practically scream, legs shaking as armin continues to grind into you. making you feel every single inch of him. because it all belongs to you.

"so perfect." he pants, resting his sweaty forehead on your back. "so perfect."

would now be a good time to say he loves you?

you’re avoiding him.

at first he just thought you were just a bit shy considering the circumstances, you two were close friends then went through a period of barely speaking to each other for months only for him to end up fucking you in someone else’s bedroom.

so he gave you time to process all of that but it’s been two weeks...how much more time do you need? the first week he tried to stay calm but now it’s getting too much, the last time he gave you space you two didn’t speak for so long. that was his fault and he won’t make it again, he can’t go through that again. not after finally having a taste of you.

he sighs deeply, digging his fingers under the pillow and taking out the pink lace bra he took out of your drawer the other day. he just misses you too much. it feels like he can’t breath whenever you awkwardly walk out of a room once you see him, how you deliberately ignore his unwavering gaze, how you haven’t said even a single word to him.

it fills him up with anxiety and he needs to find a way to release somehow so he shamelessly acquired this piece of material. it’s not like he’s committed some crime, he just needed to find a way to be near you. to feel you again.

he wishes he could see it on you, maybe he’ll ask you to keep it on next time you two make love again. his hand was under his sweatpants the second he felt himself harden, quickly tugging on his length until he was panting into the pillow. “y/n...” he moans.

he needs you. needs to taste you, touch your soft skin and feel it under his fingertips. needs to hear your moans, see your scrunched up eyebrows and dazed out eyes as he pounds into you...fuck you’d be clawing at his shoulders just like that night. you’d be so tight as sweat drips down both of your bodies.

he grips his cock tighter, toes curled and eyes shut tight as the bra is held to his chest. if only he could live between your legs forever, feeling your tight heat and hearing your pretty little sounds. he’d never want to leave.

you’ve been gone all day, barely been around the last two weeks and he had no idea how much his schedule depended on you being near. even when he was ignoring you, most of the things he did throughout the day consisted of taking care of you. making sure you got to your classes, took your morning jokes safely, how he used to watch you study in the library and so much more. but he didn’t even know where you were now, he had your entire routine memorized back on campus. it definitely isn’t the same now that school was temporarily over.

loneliness was creeping in. he doesn’t know what to do without you. it’s not like he could study to pass the time anymore. fuck. all he needed was one more tug before he was releasing all over his hand.

that was unsatisfactory. it’s not like the real thing. masturbating does nothing anymore once he’s actually been inside of you. he groans, frustration threatening to take him apart as he gets up and walks towards the bathroom. it only takes a few minutes before he’s cleaned up and changed his clothes, ready to go to sleep.

but then he hears something.

rustling outside, right under his window. then he hears your soft voice, uttering something he can’t quite hear. he walks closer to it, thankful he left it slightly open.

what he sees...is definitely not what he expected.

his fingers unconsciously clench the window handle, almost breaking his nails in the process as he watches eren—eren walking down the lawn and into the street.

he was...he was in your room? he didn’t hear the front door open and there’s no other way for eren to have walked in unless he climbed that tree next to the two rooms. why was he in your room?

armin tastes blood in his mouth, biting down on his tongue so harshly that his teeth pierced into it. while he was in here, agonizing over your absence—you were in there with him. doing who knows what.

well, it’s pretty obvious what you were up to as he watches the pep in eren’s steps.

fucking hell.

he thought he fixed that.

are the healing bruises in his face just...fuck why are you with him? he shakes his head, trying to calm down but it’s pointless at this rate. he should’ve done more, he would’ve done more but then you suddenly came onto him that night and he thought he had won. apparently not.

playing nice is pointless. it seems you like men like eren regardless of the crappy actions they do. what’s wrong with you?

he’s walking to your bedroom in the next second, fists clenching and unclenching. what’s wrong with you? he goes to knock but then scoffs bitterly before sharply opening the door, hearing the sound of it smacking against the wall.

you’re on your bed, gasping and eyes widening at the abrupt action and sound. “armin—what—”

you’re just wearing an oversized shirt...that is definitely not his. looks like eren’s old football jersey. fucking hell. what is wrong with you, y/n?

“are you serious?” he breathes out, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. “are you fucking serious?” he takes a step forward and you anxiously scoot back on the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask like he’s in the wrong. like he’s the one acting like a little confusing, manipulative whore.

“why are you doing this to me, y/n?” he grits out. “why?”

“doing what?” you raise your voice a bit, pursing your lips. the look in your eyes tells him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“what’s so special about him? please tell me cause i don’t understand. why’d you go back to him even after everything he did? he doesn’t even love you—not like i do, how many times do i have to say no one loves you like i do?” he’s in front of you in a second, hands clenching your shoulders and slightly shaking you.

“y-you’re acting weird, armin.” your bottom lip starts to quiver. “you’re scaring me.”

“i’m scaring you?” he laughs. “not the man who almost beat me to a pulp? but it’s me who scares you?”

“l-like you said—he was drunk so...so he didn’t mean to! he said he apologized—”

“that’s not the point!” he yells, startling you. your eyes are widen to the point they look like they’re going to fall out but he doesn’t care. what’s wrong with you? “he’s brash, rude, inconsiderate. he could care less about you and trust me the second summer is over, he’s ditching your ass for someone else and yet you still pin after him? is that what you like y/n? do you enjoy getting walked over like a damn doormat by everyone? your parents, historia, abby and now eren? what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears are gathering in your eyes, you bring your hands up to his and push them off of your shoulders. “you’re being mean.”

“i thought you liked that? unless it’s coming from me right? you allow everyone else to treat you like crap then come crawling to me with tears in your damn eyes when you need a safety net.” he seethes. “everyone else can be jackasses, except for me. i always need to be your perfect little armin.”

“what is your problem?” you stand up, facing him. trying to appear strong when you both know it’s all an act. you can barely stand up for yourself without crying. “you’re the one who ignored me for—”

“not this crap again. you’re the one who came onto me that night, saying you’re mine, begging me to fuck you and then you suddenly ignore me and go right back to eren even after everything.” he throws his hands up in the air.

“i like eren.” you exhale shakily, seems like those three words were the only ones you were capable of forming at the moment.

“you said you liked me too, remember? how you always liked me—”

“i was drunk that night, armin.” it’s said so nonchalantly, like it’s the actual truth but he knows better. he was watching you most of the night and you didn’t even go near a cup of alcohol.

fuck, he wants nothing more than to grip and throw you on that bed. fuck into you like the slut you apparently are and hear your soft noises. but it seems—it seems you don’t want that from him. you want that from eren. you want eren to be the big bad wolf and for armin to be your safe sanctuary whenever things get too rough.

he doesn’t want that. he wants to be your everything.

why can’t you allow that?

“so, what? you don’t want me?”

if being rough won’t work then he can try an alternative. it doesn’t matter if it makes him look pathetic, he needs you.

and the pain he’s in right now is excruciating, blurring his vision with tears. “can’t you at least try then y/n?” he walks over, hands suddenly grasping your wrists. the hold was rigid, crushing and even he was surprised at the sheer force of it. like he was trying to break something. “you can try to want me, to love me? can’t you? is it that hard? after everything i’ve done for you, you want to just leave me behind in the dust? everything i’ve done means nothing to you?”

you whimper, shaking your head no. “t—that’s not it. i just—” tears start to trail down your face, tiny sobs filling the room. “it’s not you, it’s me.”

“really? that crap line—”

“it’s the truth!” you exclaim, facing him again. “i...i don’t deserve you, armin. being with people like eren is better because even when i screw up, it won’t matter. b-but if we do get together than i’ll just mess everything up and hurt you and then i’ll lose you and i don’t wanna—i don’t want to lose you. i can’t.” you babble.

he stares at you, shock written all over his face. and disbelief, pure disbelief. that’s what you’re scared of? “the only thing that’s hurting me is you being with eren. it’s fucking kill me, y/n.” he chokes out. “and how many times do i have to tell you that i’ll never leave.”

“you left before.” you say, voice barley above a whisper. “you just left me alone to face everything and then you get mad cause of my choices—”

“i’m sorry, i regret doing that. so, so much.” he cups your cheeks, finally letting go of your wrist and it’s only then does he see the slight bruises his grip left on your wrist. fuck, why do you look so pretty with his marks?

“but that was the last time. i’m never leaving you again. i love you y/n. you’re all i need and i’m all you need, okay?” he leans his forehead against yours, taking in your everything. “okay?”

“but you can’t see the future, what if—”

“no.” he snaps, voice filled with finality. the only way he’s ever going to be apart from you is if the claws of death try to sink their way into him and even then, he’d find a way back to you. he can’t be without you. not anymore. it’s not even an option. “i won’t. i promise. okay?”

you stay silent for a minute, tears still streaming down as you sniff. “okay.” you rest your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, please forgive me.” you sob.

that’s exactly what you said that night and you still went and betrayed him. and yes you cleared things up. he knows it was all because of insecure, self sabotaging thoughts that pierced their way into you but what if they come back? what if you do that again? he can’t see you with eren anymore, he won’t be able to control his actions if he does. he backs away, taking your jaw into his hand and staring at you.

“you won’t do that again, will you?” he’s not asking. the tone in his voice makes it clear committing something as atrocious as that isn’t even a possibility anymore.

you nod meekly, doe eyes staring into yours with a hint of fear but this time he doesn’t care. if a bit of fear will keep you from shattering his heart again, then he hopes it sticks forever.

“i won’t.” you smile timidly.

good.

he’s inside of you not ten minutes later, chest covering your back as he fondles your breast. leaving marks anywhere he can. you’re his. and he’ll make sure everyone knows it. teeth sinking into fragile flesh with no mercy and with the way you cry out, you don’t seem to mind.

you’re yelping with every thrust, fingers clenching the sheets and his end goal is take several rounds throughout the night, pound into you until you’re non verbal. barely able to even let out tiny whimpers. he wants you so fucked out that no other cock will fill you up the way he does. and most certainly not eren’s.

he can tell he’s close, quickly flipping you around so you’re straddling him now, hands wrapping around your neck as you cry out. he smirks at the sight in front of him, purple marks covering your body, tear filled eyes and uncontrollable noises of pleasure.

so perfect.

it’s all he’s ever wanted.

he grips your waist, pistons in and out to the point you’re screaming. does historia hear that? hears you scream for him, evidence you’re his now. not theirs anymore. they can’t control you anymore, can’t taint what he loves any longer. armin’s the only one for you.

“oh—oh fuck.” you sniff through the tears, bouncing on top of him. that lace bra snug on your chest. you wore it just for him, just cause he asked.

“do you love me?” he pants, grip tightening.

you nod dumbly, without a second thought. “i do...i love you. i love you so much, armin.”

“good.” he smiles. fucking fantastic.

“you belong to me, right? you don’t need them anymore? right?” he practically begs.

you whimper, staying silent a second too long so he angles this next thrust into your sweet spot

causing you to yelp. “y-yes! i’m yours, i don’t need them.” you confirm.

“you don’t need anyone but me.”

“i don’t need anyone but you.” you whine, leaning your head onto his. “and you don’t need anyone but me, r-right?”

what kind of question is that? of course he doesn’t need anyone else. he’s never needed anyone else. if he could burn the entire world down with you two as the only survivors, he would. he wants you to himself, wants you to only have him. forever and always.

“of course.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Heartache

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captivity, torture, brainwashing, delusional Bucky.

Words: 2535.

Summary: You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

P.S. I have to say it turned out darker than I expected. Attention! Bucky is free from his programming, but he does not heal as he should. 

__________________

“You look old.”

You decide to give him the pleasure of hearing your voice. It sounds dull from behind the glass when Bucky comes closer, looking at someone he recognizes too well, but you do not recognize a man he became, nothing reminding you of the one with whom you once shared your bed.

You know what the man looking at you through the glass thinks. You didn’t age a day since the last time he saw you, and while he knows why, it still surprises him to see a young woman watching him calmly as if all those years didn't pass.

“You miss your star.” You say, tilting your head to the side and narrowing your eyes at him when you see his new vibranium arm.

“It doesn't matter.” His answer is immediate, and Bucky isn't surprised to hear the raw anger in his own voice: he is no longer the Soldier you knew, and he is worried he won't find a way to interact with you. You don't seem too interested in Bucky Barnes and whoever he works for despite the fact you are hardly HYDRA's soldier yourself.

What he doesn't know is that you still stay the soldier you have been once, and nothing will ever change that regardless of whoever Bucky Barnes sends your way to cure you from HYDRA's conditioning.

"I'm glad you remember me."

You find it peculiar: a man who has been trying so hard to get rid of anything that ties him to the Winter Soldier has been looking for you for years, finally tracking you down, capturing you and bringing you here as if your pure existence didn't remind him of the worst years of his life. What did he expect to find? A comfort in someone who once had been paired with him just for the sake of research?

"Don't bother, Mr. Barnes. There's nothing there left for you."

You see he's taken aback because you have hit a nerve. Apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the connection between the two of you remained the same, and he could dig up the feelings that had long been buried. Stupid, you think, he's forgetting the most important part: he is not the man you formed the bond with. You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

It doesn't matter. After all those years you didn't believe in happy endings, and even if the man watching you through the glass think he is going to get one after getting out, he is clearly deluding himself.

Averting his eyes, Bucky clears his throat and changes the topic, trying to give himself a false hope he can mend things. “I will convince Shuri to treat you. She helped me break through the conditioning, and she will do the same to you."

You could raise your brow at him, but maintaining this facade is tiresome and doesn't make sense. "I see you have no idea how much my conditioning differs from yours. You can't break through it. It's embedded in me."

"I thought so, but I got rid of mine. You can do it too, I'm sure."

Although you see him trying to assure you, Bucky's getting agitated because he really has no idea what HYDRA did to you. He couldn't know it when he still was the Soldier, but now the lack of his knowledge leads you to the thought your former masters destroyed whatever info they still kept - they foresaw he would search for you.

"Your brainwashing was flimsy. I've always wondered how come you were considered HYDRA'S greatest assassin when you just needed to see your dear friend once to start getting your memories back." You snort, knowing Bucky would feel a slight hint of jealousy in your voice, but you don't care: you've never hid from him you only needed the Winter Soldier, and he was gone.

Bucky doesn't know what to say as a part of him wants to scream there was nothing flimsy about electroconvulsive therapy he went through over and over again, but he looks at you and sees how different you are from him, having no memories of your own, not knowing even your name or the place where you came from. It doesn't scare him, but the fact you had long merged with the Soldier you've become does. You don't separate yourself from her the way he did. In fact, the Soldier had completely absorbed your true persona, and Bucky doesn’t know the real you. He only knows RED, a Soldat who at one point was been created by HYDRA just like all of them were. Despite searching for the information about your past for years, he found nothing, not even the year when you became a part of the organization. Bucky doesn’t think you did it willingly judging by the fact how you reacted when he had been training you among the other Soldiers, but he can’t be sure.

You’re a ghost. None of the masters who had been giving you orders know anything about you except your specialization and things you can do. Bucky supposes there were once people who knew the truth, but all of them are probably dead since the ones he has captured were utterly useless. His only hope is Shuri who might bring whatever is left somewhere deep inside your mind to the surface, yet he isn’t sure she will take you: the more you talk, the more it becomes clear you will not ask her to do it willingly, and Shuri won’t like that. The redemption can only be granted to someone who asks and works for it.

You don’t seem the type.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you quietly, his forehead almost touching the glass separating you two when Bucky watches you with that pathetic expression of his. “If I let you go, you will return to people you serve. If I bring you to police, you will end up in a lab in the hands of the government.”

You allow him to see your smile as you observe him, desperately hoping you will tell him you will come back to the good guys and stay with him, playing a role of his funny little girlfriend because Bucky Barnes cannot allow himself to form an adequate relationship with any woman who has not been tainted the way he was. It probably seems so tragic to him that he had to spent years trying to catch you.

Although the chair you’re bound to doesn’t let you stand and come over to him, you still lean closer to the window, wearing the same polite but welcoming smile you used to lure your targets closer to you.

“I want you back in that chair, going through the whole process of brainwashing again until you become the Soldat you’ve been. I want you standing with me and feeling as much pain as I did until your sensitivity goes down to zero, and you no longer remember those funny friends of yours. I know you won’t trade your freedom and whatever else you have after getting out, but I don’t need James Buchanan Barnes or White Wolf or whoever you have become. I am RED of HYDRA, and I have bonded with the Winter Soldier you buried, Bucky.”

When he leaves, the massive metal door getting locked ten times the least, you stare at the grey wall beside the glass. You wonder how getting the privilege of remembering his past made him so miserable, a pathetic, broken man who did not understand how lucky he had been, not only breaking free from HYDRA’s grip but gaining his true identity back. He probably pitied himself, poor little boy who had been broken by the big bad guys. He did not understand that all other soldiers who came after him, except the suicide squad made with Stark’s serum, had been turned into ashes. There was nothing left to break in them - and you either.

_______________________

Shuri wasn’t happy to hear your story just like he thought, but Bucky couldn’t lie to her, hoping she would understand. Of course, she didn’t, telling him outright it was impossible to treat somebody who didn’t want to be treated. While it was also inhuman, forcing you to do something against your will just like HYDRA has been doing all these years, it also erased the possibility to use the same methods she chose when she treated Bucky.

“You don’t understand,” she tells him, shaking her head, “it’s not that I don’t want to help, but without her cooperating it’s close to impossible. They didn’t use the same ways to program her just like they did to you.”

He isn’t satisfied with her answer even though he knows Shuri wants to help. He can’t leave it like that, leave you to your fate, return you where you belonged, and he keeps asking who or what may be able to help you until she finally tells him something about electrical stimulation of the brain that can awake memories that you have buried. Shuri immediately regrets it, seeing how Bucky’s face lights up.

“It is a very complicated process that requires an extensive medical knowledge. Worse, even if performed correctly, this technique can traumatize her even further. Please don’t do this. We don’t even know if this method will be effective.”

Bucky doesn’t promise her anything, though a part of him feels guilty he made her tell him this. He just has to do it: undoubtedly, HYDRA or whoever you work for now will force you to go through the brainwashing process again, and whatever treatment Shuri told him about can’t be worse than this. If Bucky does everything right, you might stand a chance to live like he does, away from the horrors of the war you had been a part of ever since the organization abducted you. Even if you don’t want it, clearly it is an effect of the memory suppressing machine: any sane human being wants to have a normal life, right?

It takes him months to find and steal the equipment he needs, leaving no traces - it reminds him of the days when he had been under HYDRA’s control, but he does what he has to. Learning how to use the machine is a much more complicated task, but Bucky is grateful for that serum-enhanced brain of his: he nearly swallows the information from the books in record time, reading about sending a burst of electrical energy into your cerebral cortex to stimulate your brain and finally retrieve your memories. Now he knows what Shuri meant by traumatizing, but this doesn’t stop him either. He does what he has to do.

“What is your name?” He repeats after listening to your screams for ten or maybe twenty minutes, your body going limp in the black, cold chair when you open your mouth, breathing heavily, your face stained with tears and sweat.

“Dolores.” You say immediately, knowing he will repeat the procedure if you keep silent, your heat beating wildly. “I grew up... on a small farm in Iowa... I had an older sister... and slept with a big teddy bear with a red ribbon...”

“You are lying.” He says simply, and a jolt of electricity cuts through your head, nearly electrocuting you while you scream again and again.

For some reason he always feels it when you say what he wants to hear instead of the truth. What he doesn’t understand is that the truth he wants has been told months ago: you did not remember and you were not going to remember anything from your past. It was stupid to try. There was nothing left of you, and while he thought he was resurrecting a human in you, he was simply destroying your body that was regenerating every night after the therapy.

When you receive a new jolt, shaking and screaming, tears streaming down your face until they fall down onto your already wet t-shirt, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Either I will have you as my Soldat, or I will not have you at all.”

Bucky presses the button.

__________________________

When he is finished he takes you to a bath in the room next to your cell. You almost lose the ability to move for an hour or two, giving him time to prepare you: Bucky undresses you and slowly lowers your body in the tub filled with warm water, watching that you take a comfortable position and don’t slip, effectively suffocating. Today he had almost gone too far, risking to fry your brain: you still refused to give up even after two months of therapy you have gone through, and Bucky isn’t too happy.

Pouring a strawberry-scented shampoo on his palm, Bucky starts to carefully wash your hair that grew longer in the months of captivity, watching that neither shampoo nor the foam gets in your eyes. You are nearly breathless: the serum they gave you made you less stronger than him, but your regeneration abilities are on a whole different level, and soon your body will adjust and erase the damage made.

He asks himself whether keep using the machine makes sense since he didn’t make much progress, the programming still very much in you even after all those incredibly painful sessions. What if you were right from the start? What if there was nothing to remember, and all he could do was to leave you in the state you were in before he destroyed whatever was left of you?

No, he can’t do it. Leaving you means taking away your chance to ever get back to normal life, and he can’t force himself to do that.

Never in his life Bucky Barnes will admit letting you go meant never getting his own happy ending the way he wants it.

“Why reinventing the wheel when you can make it so much easier?” All of a sudden, your hoarse voice whimpers in his ear when you look at him, tiredly moving your head up. “Do what they’ve always done. Use the programming to give me an order.”

A part of him is shocked with the revelation: he wanted to be neither the Soldier nor the one giving him commands. But the other part makes him realize how much easier it would be if he just used what has already been done to you instead of relying on an obviously ineffective method that damaged your mind and body. Of course, he has nothing in common with Karpov sending him on the assassination missions. Bucky only wants you to learn how to become human again, free you from HYDRA once and for all, give you the life you undoubtedly wanted. Even if he uses the same method the organization did until he finds a better way to undo the programming, it is still for your own good.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

[onceupona-chaos]

Feathers and dawn

Day 15 of Elriel month/ Explosion of power

The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeth flashing against her dark skin, and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

Word count:  3838

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: This was a huge challenge for me, because English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Part II is coming out on day 18 (I think). Be kind!

“ELAIN!”

Azriel was kneeling on the ground, panting through gritted teeth as he tried not to succumb to that invisible force covering him like a heavy blanket. Whatever spells and wards casted upon that place were draining his magic little by little as if he had been hit by several ash arrows - only ten times worse. 

Even with the cold rain soaking him, the raindrops like ice needles against his skin and wings, he managed to fix his eyes on the cave, scanning and scanning through the dark dots that were beginning to form, trying to see something, anything. 

But the cave was as dark as the sky above him. A never ending darkness that seemed to swallow any blue light from his almost drained Siphons.

His shadows detected nothing. Not a whisper, not a move, no sign of her. 

After Elain had disappeared inside the Cave and his shadows couldn't get a reading, he had immediately sent Nuala to get Rhysand whilst he tried to find a way in. But he couldn't pass the wards just like his shadows couldn't sense her.

When a female scream echoed from inside the cave, Azriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Pure, clear panic was all he knew.

When he had been summoned to the river house in the morning, not in his five hundred years he’d expected it to turn out like this. 

 Shit. Shit.

________________

Azriel hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few hours, and even so dreams and nightmares made him roll in his bed the entire time. He’d  been awake for hours, staring at the two Solstice gifts he’d got from her when dawn came. And with it, Rhys’ orders. 

He made a point not to arrive earlier than he needed, so he wouldn’t be - couldn't be -  in the same place as her longer than necessary. Keeping his distance when he wasn't at the river house was torture enough, but being in the same house and still feel as if they were at opposite edges of the same abyss…  

And yet when Azriel landed outside the river house, his shadows quickly whispered in his ear that Rhysand wasn't alone in his studio. 

The warning did nothing to stop his body from stiffen when he stepped through the door, the illusion of a meeting only between him and his brother quickly dissipating, and his eyes shot straight to the window - and there she was.

He didn't know if it was the lilac dress or the sunlight casting through the window, but her eyes were almost the color of pure honey. But something was off, her usually open expression was stark and hard, and then he noticed the pallidness on that beautiful face and the faint black bruises under her eyes. Even though he knew his face was the portrait of boredom, his shadows swarmed him, sensing his unease.

Azriel made his eyes move to where Amren was sitting crossed-legged, her petite body almost hidden beneath a white fur coat. Feyre cradling Nyx in her arms was sitting next to Rhysand, the baby soundly asleep, warm against his mother's chest. 

Azriel looked back to where Elain was, her shoulders tensing a bit as if she could sense his gaze on her even when she was peering through  the window, and he knew she was deliberately avoiding looking at him. It was only a stolen glimpse from his part - Azriel was well aware of Rhysand's violet eyes on him, almost daring him to disobey his orders. 

Azriel made the boiling rage cool down, kept his face carefully blank, his mask of cool boredom still in place whilst he faced his brother, lifting an eyebrow in question. 

Amren, on the other hand, didn’t bother to mask her impatience. “We’re waiting, Rhysand.”

The High Lord of The Night Court nodded to Elain, and Azriel felt his body stiffened once again. Rhysand announced, "It looks like we have another Made object to worry about.”

Silence.

Azriel’s blood went cold in his veins. He asked quietly, "How would you know?"

Elain didn't give many details. But she emphasized it was more of a sense than a normal vision, as if she could smell a storm coming but the skies remained clear. As if she could hear an ancient whisper in the wind. She wasn't sure what it was until last night - when  something long forgotten had presented itself in a dream. Azriel was well aware of what kind of objects could call for someone like that.

“What is this object?” Feyre asked.

Elain replied, “I… I can’t See what it is.” Azriel tracked the way she swallowed. “It’s veiled in shadows. Hidden among the silence itself."

Nodding more to herself, Amren said, "Whatever this is, it wants to be found at last.” She narrowed her eyes at Elain’s direction. "It's calling for you, girl."

Azriel's shadows gathered even closer, sensing his concern. He remembered of Oorid, how Nesta’s body shook after she retrieved The Mask. For Elain to be exposed to the same danger…

And yet, he couldn’t - wouldn’t interfere. He knew how much each choice Elain got to make was precious to her. She’d told him that herself on one of those nights in front of the fireplace. Her eyes had been filled with a mix of sadness and hope as if she still could feel her own choices slipping through her fingers as if they were grains of sand. 

He had only stared at her back then, imagining how it had been like for her going into the Cauldron - and then spending months trapped in her own visions to the point she couldn't tell dreams and reality apart. So he'd kept silent, let his understanding rise to the surface so she could see it and watched as her body relaxed under his gaze.

So different from now when she looked in every direction except his as she watched the harsh argument, Amren insisting vigorously that Elain should go look for the object. 

That explained why Nesta wasn't there, why Rhysand hadn't asked him to fly her down.

Whilst Cassian was in Illyria for an inspection of the aerial legions, the priestesses had recently received another female. Nesta didn't so much hesitate in wanting to help her the way she could and have been spending more time than usual at the library. But not to tell her, to keep this away from her… 

"Does Nesta know about this?", Azriel cut in.

"She would take this task for herself." Rhysand didn't even bother to look guilty. "And if it's calling for Elain, we can't risk sending anyone else, even if she chooses not to go. It could end very badly."  

"Maybe Nesta would be right to hesitate to send Elain,"  Azriel argued back, violet eyes narrowing. "Either way, that doesn't justify not telling her."

Feyre was glaring at her mate, undoubtedly saying something in his head, as if they had that discussion before. Many times. 

But before she could say anything out loud, Amren cut in, "It's not calling for Nesta, boy."

Azriel's voice was cold as ice. "Do not forget that we already kept information from her before." 

Amren didn’t even have time to open her mouth - to disagree or snarl, Azriel didn't know - before Elain stood up from her seat at the window, "That’s enough."

They all twisted toward her, brows raised. The only sound in the room now was the soft rustle of Nyx delicate wings.

Elain looked at Rhys, eyes sharp but voice even. "You of all people should know what it is like to want to protect those who you love and that is no excuse for keeping things from Nesta." Sadness coated her expression. “Not again, Rhys.” 

This time, Rhys had the decency to look at least guilty. Ferey intervened, "I'll tell her this afternoon. I want Cassian there, too."

Elain nodded. "I'm not a child for anyone to decide for me. If it's calling for me, I won’t run away.” She said squaring her shoulders, never looking away from her older sister, who was just about to say something. "And I am not asking for permission." 

And her posture, her words, her tone were so fierce, those large caramel-brown eyes flickering while she studied them all and Azriel knew that she’d do whatever was necessary to help this court. 

A  reminder that the Archeron sisters were forged by the same fire.

Azriel's chest ached with pride - and terror. Terror for her. But he pushed aside those instincts that were screaming to keep her safe, to not let her near any danger, and asked at last, "Then how do we find it?"

_________________

In a matter of minutes, Elain was sitting before a map, her eyes shifting beneath her lids as if she could See the entire world. Everyone was watching her as she searched for the right place, the one that appeared in her dreams - so Azriel used the moment to admire her.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful, he could admire her for the rest of his days in the same way he looked at the rising sun.

Elain’s hand hovered over that map, the creamy, soft skin marked by small scars, her delicate fingers were calloused, no doubt from her gardening. She cocked her head, as if listening to those whispering to find the right path. Azriel could’ve sworn the room was getting warmer.

She let a finger down and opened her eyes. For a second it looked like a faint golden glow shone behind the familiar brown, just like one could see the faelights behind a piece of glass, but then Elain blinked a few times -  and it faded away.

 "Here," she said.

Feyre sighted deeply as she cupped Nyx’s head as if she could protect him from her very words. "Of course it's in the Middle."

______________________

Nuala didn't ask any questions. She'd only showed up in the afternoon as they had agreed, passing right through the wall. Elain appeared a second later, opening the door and almost scrambling Azriel's brain cells to the point of uselessness. 

Her hair was braided behind her head, a blue surcoat, similar to the one she wore in the war, reached the middle of her thighs. It wasn’t Illyrian leathers, but the slits in the lower part of the surcoat  combined with her leather pants did absolutely nothing to hide her curves and the color made her skin look almost golden.

His shadows brightened as if to let him see all of her more clearly. He knew he was staring, that he should say something about them going somewhere, but he couldn't even remember his words. When Feyre had suggested he accompany Elain, he’d made his best to not look at Rhys, to just naturally nod in agreement. 

Rhysand wouldn't say a word about Solstice. Not in front of Feyre, that is.

But that didn't stop his High Lord to make Nuala play chaperone with a bullshit excuse that her gifts might end up being useful in the place they were heading to and her friendship with Elain could help. 

The message was crystal clear.

Azriel's eyes dropped without his acknowledgement to her lips, those sweet lips he had been so close to taste. He heard someone coughing, but his mind didn’t register the sound.

When he finally realized he was staring, he quickly snapped his eyes to hold her gaze. Despite the faint pink coloring her cheeks, a flicker of amusement sparkled in Elain’s expression.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat. 

Azriel ignored the smirk curving Feyre’s lips just like he ignored Nuala’s amusement, trying his best to contain the heat spreading across his cheeks at the thought of them watching the staring contest between the two of them.

Finally Nuala decided to put him out of his misery and asked, "Shall we?".

________________

By the time the swirl of shadows disappeared, Azriel was half distracted by the feeling of Elain's small hand in his. But the moment Azriel was able to have a good look at the place before them, he felt the hair on his arms rose. 

A deep forest was revealed, huge, gigantic trees side by side, making him feel the same size as Amren. Nuala let go of his other hand and almost unconsciously he tightened his grip on Elain's as she looked wild-eyed at the view before them.

As if one could call it that.

Where the forest should be rejoicing with life, there was none. Not a single leaf remained in those trees, the naked branches curling above the small, meandering trail like black claws. There wasn't a single animal or insect anywhere beneath the dark gray sky, making the atmosphere grievously melancholic. 

No light, no life. A place of utter sadness, as silent as Death.

"I've seen worse." Nuala's midnight voice was almost a whisper, but still reverberated like a thunder in that deadly silence, her attempt of being playful covered by the tenseness in her tone.

Azriel studied Elain, who swallowed before saying, "Me too." Her face was cautious, tight. She cocked her head as if heading some inner voice.

He asked, "Can you See where it is?"

She gently let go of his hand, blushing a little as if she had just realized they were still touching. "No, not See it" She said, scanning the forest. "But I can hear it."

"The shadows don't hear anything," Nuala said, moving to be at Elain’s side. “Do you remember what we discussed?”

Elain nodded.

“Once we enter the forest, watch your steps and try to walk toe to heels most of the time. Listen carefully to our breathing,” Nuala said, gesturing to her and then Azriel, who was watching the scene with raised brows. “And match yours with it always. Be as quiet as you can.” 

To his surprise, Elain just lifted a brow at the command in Nuala’s tone, who gave her a Look. “I’m serious, if you can help it, do not make a sound in this place.” The half-wraith gave her friend a feral grin, white teeths flashing against her dark skin and said quietly in her midnight voice, “Stealthy as a doe.”

Elain matched Nuala’s smile, sending a thrill down Azriel’s spine. “Fierce as a wolf.”

And then they walk right into The Silent Forest, living an almost dumbfounded Azriel behind.

_________________

They had been walking for what it felt like hours now. 

Even with his five hundred years worth of daily training, Azriel could feel his strength being drained slowly as if a heavy hand was pushing them back. With every step he took, it was like the forest itself, every single inch of that damn forest, didn’t want them there.

He kept his wings tucked in tight while eyeing their surroundings, once or twice he saw what seemed a glimpse of eyes watching them. The children of The Silent Forest. He could only pray for them to get the hell out of that place before sunset. 

Nuala seemed just as uncomfortable. Shadows gathered around her like a veil of darkness as if they could shield her from that invisible force, even though she was holding Elain’s hand now. 

Elain, who did not balk. She just kept walking, stopping sometimes along the way, her head cocked as if she could hear an inner voice luring her into the right direction until, at some point, Elain left the small forest trail to venture in an invisible path between the trees. 

More than once Nuala looked at Elain and smirked, causing a blush to spread across Elain’s pale cheeks.  

Despite the circumstances why Nuala was there, Azriel was grateful for the female attempts to distract Elain from her visible, growing tension. So he kept a few steps behind, offering the two females some privacy.  And when the temptation of using his shadows to know the cause of that blush crossed his mind, which was every five minutes, he pushed it aside and tried to focus on the surroundings or on the infinity, dark sky above them. With the sun almost down, the charged clouds waltzing through it in a promise of desolation.

They kept walking against that invisible force, almost unbearable now until… there. Azriel stiffened.

Deep in the forest, where the darkness seemed to unfold out of it, the entrance into a cave opened as if it was a path to another world, one made of Darkness and nothing more.  

Azriel’s shadows whispered to not go further. 

Nuala seemed to sense the same thing. "It feels… so wrong.” Her voice was quiet, but it seemed to be swallowed by the cave as if it was greedy to devour any sound, any light. 

“Strange,” Elain whispered back, brows furrowing. “It doesn’t feel like that to me.”

Azriel looked once again at the sky. They didn’t have much more time before night - and the beasts - came. He was almost suggesting to turn around, maybe they could convince Rhysand to come along. 

"I’ll be right back."

It took a moment to her words sink in, to Azriel make sense of what had just come out of Elain’s mouth. Elain, who was already moving. Elain, who was already walking towards the cave, getting closer with each step. 

Azriel moved out of sheer instinct, rushing forward to grab her hand, but again that damn force was pushing him back now. He flared his wings, trying to find some balance to keep going. "Elain," he snarled. 

She paused right before the entrance and looked back at him,  "I can hear its calling, it won't hurt me.”

Azriel was breathing hard, so lost on his mind that he didn’t realize the rain soaking him. He didn't like that one bit. He wanted to reach her, put his arms around her and shot to the skies. But he only unsheathed Truth-Teller and offered it to her. Elain bit her lip and walked back.  

He pressed his dagger to her hands, their eyes meeting - just like he had done once. Elain didn't hesitate this time. “Just…” He took his hand, trying to find the words. And there were so many words. “Come back," he said at last. A request and a prayer.

Elain squeezed his fingers and looked at Nuala before turning around. Azriel tracked every breath, every movement she made. His shadows speared toward the cave, watching over Elain, until darkness swallowed her. 

He was still monitoring her through his shadows, Nuala by his side. None of them dared to speak - not that he wanted to. Nuala worked as his spy long enough to know he kept to himself. His shadows were still curling around his neck to whisper in his ear.

Then, they became silent. As silent as they could be as they lost Elain’s track.

The screams came not long after she disappeared. 

______________________

"ELAIN!"

The female scream was still echoing in Azriel’s ears, his own panic was a fog he couldn't see through. He tried to use his Shiphons, but whatever twisted magic ruling that place, it could not be affected. 

And Elain was there somewhere. 

So Azriel lunged forward  - to be pushed back by that invisible form. He felt a tentacle of darkness grab him, sinking its talons deep in his very bones, sucking on his killing power.

He turned to Nuala, who was trying to summon her own shadows, to see beyond the darkness. “Go back, right now and bring Rhysand.” Her face drained of color. “Now, Nuala.”

“I won’t leave her.”

“That’s an order," he snarled.  

She looked back at the cave, before assuming her shadowy form and ran back, passing directly through the trees in her way. 

Fuck. Seven Shiphons never felt so powerless. He could only imagine what the hell was happening, ancient spells and wards, casted by god knows what kind of creatures and now Elain - Elain - was there and -

Think. He needed to try to calm the hell down and think. He was always planning, always calculating, that was his fucking job.

But he couldn’t think. Those talons thigned, more and more. He felt his magic leaving him slowly.

And then everything stopped.

When he  looked through the raindrops once more to the cave, - 

Elain’s head broke the darkness first. A solemn expression printed on her beautiful face and her eyes... they glowed. Nothing like Nesta’s silver fire, nothing like Amren’s once were, but gone was the familiar chocolate brown that Azriel had lost himself in it more times he could count, replaced by a light of white and golden. As if the sun itself was behind her skull and, just like that, the air in the forest grew hotter, wave after wave of heat crashing through him, his own strength being restored. He was only half-conscious about the dark forms of beasts older than Darkness who lived there in absolute silence, that now ran from that promise of light.

And in her hands… a small golden orb.

Any trace of that unholy darkness was gone as Elain stepped closer and on her back... the hair on Azriel arms rose, pure awe ran though his body. A pair of beautiful, strong, powerful wings, covered in feathers, each one white as snow, gleaming and glowing as if they have been sewed with golden thread, perfectly matching her otherworldly eyes. They seemed impermeable despite the water running down, like they were covered by a protection layer where drops glittered under starlight, similar to pearls. 

Azriel only stood there, drinking her image and memorizing it as she walked toward him. For she was something from dreams, from tales as old as the forest around them. 

Sweat began to run down his back, between his wings, in great rivers and in that moment she was the sun itself. Her face was sheer power, so luminous that radiated from her, warming the world, and he knew that despite the heavenly glow, she could release hell upon them all with nothing but a blink - no kindness, no mercy whatsoever.

Despite the heat, he did not flinch, did not so much as move. This was different from the fire that gave him his scars, a constant reminder of hate and fear. Whatever that fire was made of, this was something else entirely. 

It was the warmth of firelights on Solstice nights with his family, of spring days when he would sunny his wings. The warmth of Nyx’s laughter, of Elain’s smile. He wanted her closer, wanted to slide his arms around her and let her light cast through him until the darkness of his very soul faded away. For she was light, always have been. And for someone who is lost in the dark, light is salvation. 

Slowly Elain stepped out of the cave. The moment she crossed the dorway, after a few steps, that light dimmed, her wings dropped as if she couldn't sustain its weight any longer. Azriel saw when her hands tightened around the orb, bringing it to her chest. She blinked and every trace of light disappeared, her beautiful face was now mortal - and pale. 

Caramel-brown eyes met hazel ones before rolling back into her head. Azriel only had time to catch Elain in his arms before she could collapse on hard rock.